Tarantism
by TheFat1
Summary: Taylor's trigger is slightly altered, and her power is altered in turn. Brockton Bay is about to face the largest outbreak of choreomania ever, and it may never be the same. All songs and lyrics belong to their respective writers and singers.
1. Prelude: The Locker

Warning: Graphic descriptive language ahead.

Prelude: The Locker

Emma had taken everything from Taylor, when she betrayed her. Almost everything, anyway.

She had been her lifelong friend, her partner in crime, her shoulder to cry on if something went wrong. Her family had been there when she lost her mother, even when her own father wasn't. She'd helped Taylor through the worst times, been her rock in a storm of unfairness called life.

That summer, the summer after Annette's death, she betrayed Taylor. She changed. Began to torture her, once school started.

Taylor had no idea why. Maybe it was baseless. Maybe Emma had loved her. Maybe it was Sophia's fault. She didn't know. All she knew was the betrayal, the hurt, the sorrow.

For a year, she withstood it. When the next year started, she began to keep track of it all, even as she slowly broke under the strain. She couldn't fight back; they had all the power. She couldn't use the system; for whatever reason, it never did anything right.

So she took it, even as they tore away at the best parts of her.

* * *

One day, as Taylor came home, she saw it, the case, hiding in a corner.

Her mother's flute. Left, forgotten, gathering dust for so long. She remembered the beautiful music it made at her mother's lips, the motion of her dancing to the hauntingly melodic tunes, the joy on Christmas day when she broke it out, when father and daughter sang carols while the mother played.

Taylor hugged that case, and she cried.

She cleaned it up, polished it with care. Played a short tune, then dug out some music. Practiced on into the night, only stopping when her father came home.

She had an idea, a hope, that this would help her cope with the day.

The next day, she brought it to school. Put it in her locker, safe from the Trio.

Except, it wasn't safe. It wasn't there when she returned.

She didn't have to search far; dumpsters were obvious places to find my stuff these days.

It was speared into a pile of rotting slop behind the kitchen. Broken, warped, ravaged. Keys broken off and shoved in the ends, the mouthpiece jagged, a tear where it had been bent into an angle.

Defiled. Its finish ruined by corrosives, shit and rot and blood rubbed into the new scars. It had been used to take a core sample of the dumpster, multiple times, based on the tubes of trash that lay around it.

She had to find something to pick it up with, couldn't throw up until she had it back, the last piece of Annette Rose Hebert left to the world. She tore herself away from the dumpster, ran into the kitchen to grab some gloves.

She returned to find it gone. She broke a little more.

She approached her locker. No sign of the Trio, but they were good at staying out of sight. She'd thought they might let up last semester, and been so very wrong. She wouldn't hope like that again.

There was a smell around her locker. Dammit, they'd probably dumped trash in it. She couldn't go without her books, as stupid as it had been to leave them here over break. She braced herself, and opened the locker.

And just stared.

The locker was full of the vilest concoction she had ever laid eyes upon. Blood dribbled out of the bottom, dead bugs caught up in the liquid. Maggots crawled through the shit and piss and blood and rotted cotton, roaches scattered in the light, while ants soldiered on. Flies buzzed around the locker like a corpse. She barely noticed.

In the middle, there was a flute. Ravaged, defiled, ruined. The last memory she had of the days when everything was nice. She reached for it, dazed, too driven by the need for this last memento to care about the filth.

A shove from behind, a slam, but she had the flute. She had it, and it wouldn't disappear again.

Then she realized what had just happened, she began to fight, to bang on the door, to scream. She could hear the cadence of Emma's laugh, the bell as it rang, the students filing past, uncaring. She screamed more, and choked as a fly hit the back of her throat, gagging as she took a deep breath, vomiting, crying, screaming, banging. For hours, she begged as people passed, blacked out and lost focus, cut herself on the sharp edges inside.

Eventually, Taylor realized nobody would help her. She was alone, alone with nothing but a reminder of her dead mother. She curled around the flute, slowly losing consciousness as the fumes made her lightheaded, as the cuts festered, as the bugs crawled around her in their incessant rhythm of life. She clutched that last memory of her mother, defiled and tarnished, as the blood leaked out from the base of the door.

A janitor found her hours later, near death, and rushed her to the hospital.

* * *

The rhythms moved through the building, a slow dance of purpose and duty. Go here, one murmured. Come here, another called. One was talking to me, as I clutched the flute.

It was a He, a familiar he. I tuned him out, keeping my eyes closed, listening to the beeps and whirrs and boops of the music of my life, played by various machines like an orchestra.

B-weep. B-weep. B-weep.

Boop. Boop. Boop.

Whirr-hirr. Whirr-hirr.

B-weep Boop, Whirr-hirr Boop, B-weep Boop…

It reminded me of a song. I moved my empty hand to the tune of it like a conductor, and the man's voice raised in pitch. Annoying, drowning out the music, making it change, making other nearby rhythms move in dischordant ways, made them start shouting too. But I knew that one. He was familiar. He was Danny. My dad.

I opened my eyes with a jolt. A tube was in my throat, needles in my arm, half my body bandaged. Dad took my hand, the left one, the one that wasn't clutching the remains of a flute like a lifeline, and said, "Taylor?", in the most hopeful voice I'd ever heard.

I could only look back at him for a few seconds before I began to cry.


	2. Fandango 1-1

Fandango 1.1

It was a day like any other. Wake up in the morning, stretch, jog. Listen to some music in the shower, sing along a little as I did my hair. Put on my jeans, my plain shirt, my hoodie, my backpack. Catch a bus to school, earbuds in my ears, tuning out the world.

Arrive. Straight to class, weave through the crowd. Sophia was waiting around the corner; I could tell, her body was fairly distinctive. Give her a wide berth, act like I didn't notice her. Drop my book just so, to avoid her foot, listen to some more Queen. Ignore –

She tore out my earbuds. "Morning, Hebert. Have a nice weekend?"

I gave her a look, then reached for my earbuds where they lay on the floor. I could still faintly hear the song coming from them. She grabbed my hand. I looked back up at her.

"Let go."

"I don't think I will. I asked you a question." She began to tighten her grip. "Did. You have. A nice. Weekend. Hebert?" By the end, the grip had gone past firm, into painful.

I could have fought back, made a fool of her in front of everybody, but it wasn't worth it.

Instead, I yelled at her. "Let me go!"

She bore down harder, then pushed me away, arm aching, books spilled on the floor. People continued past, occasionally stepping on my books and papers. Sophia laughed, and left me to try and retrieve my stuff.

I put my earbuds back in. The song finished its last few seconds, shuffled away. Sweet Home Alabama played in its place. I gathered the remainder of my stuff as the stampede petered out, brushed some dirt off my homework for World Issues, and headed on to Computer class.

Mrs. Knott was a great teacher, the kind who is helpful about classwork, but didn't pry into your personal life, and had no favorites. She'd done what she could to help me, but since no bullying took place in her classroom, she didn't see much go on.

Today's assignment was simple, just an extension of a 'hello world' program.

I had it finished in a few minutes, then moved on to PHO.

I paused at the top post on the front page. Paige Mcabee, Canary, was making news nationwide, and not in a good way. I normally didn't follow stuff like this, but her trial in particular was rather important to me.

Birds of a feather, and all.

The trial was a farce, a sham. She wasn't allowed to defend herself, unable to even type out a defense, her lawyer was shit (I knew my lawyers- my former best friend had a lawyer for a dad), and was quickly being railroaded into supermax or worse. To be fair, what she had done was scary; but it was no worse than what some Merchants or ABB would do sometimes, to people even more innocent than her victim, and her assault was accidental.

I honestly wasn't surprised, though; Masters got a really bad deal, and it wasn't like the system had ever done me any favors, so why would it help her? Canary was a lesson; if you trip and fall, they'll kick you while you're down.

One thing was certain; joining the Wards was just not a good idea. Not with my power.

I'd originally started checking PHO after my Trigger, intending to get information on local capes, but quickly got derailed by the FAQ section after seeing the power classifications mentioned in a few threads. I'd found out just how carefully I'd have to step, what the boundaries were for safe(ish) cape interaction, how easily a power like mine could cross those boundaries.

I'd resolved to wait until I was fully prepared, and interact with the authorities as little as possible once I did go out. I wanted to be a hero, but the system might not like that idea.

I scrolled onward, checking other current events. Disaster relief in Canberra was finally slowing down; the Simurgh had been relatively kind to the city, destruction-wise, and most of the obvious aftereffects had been identified, according to various Thinkers. African warlords were fighting, as always; Uber and Leet had done a rather silly caper as Banjo and Kazooie, and made fools of themselves.

As shitty as the world was, it was moving, day by day.

I looped the video of them riding piggyback and faceplanting a few times, stifling a laugh. I'd seriously considered joining them at one point; they were villains, but save a few lapses in judgement, they were mostly just lovable idiots. I'd dropped that idea after a while, though; I really didn't know enough about gamer culture, they got caught too often, and last thing I wanted was to dress up and be silly.

I moved off of PHO, and fired up Looptopia, spending the rest of the period making music.

* * *

Fucking hell. Juice all over my stuff, only half my lunch eaten. I'd probably need a few new textbooks, which would of course cost me full price even if they were in terrible condition, and if the bus didn't hurry, I might have a permanent stain on my bra and shirt.

Just… fuck those bitches. They had no idea how hard it was to resist using my powers on them. I essentially had the perfect power to humiliate them in front of the entire school, but to use them would be to flirt with the Birdcage.

I was a Master, after all. Even if it was a fairly harmless kind of control, it was control nonetheless.

It made me feel really, really stupid, considering what I was thinking of doing tonight.

Fuck, it was still dripping. I might lose the art project and panties, too.

I got on the bus, ignoring the looks.

Tonight, after I cleaned up, I was going to go out in costume.

See, the way I figured, Canary's main problem had been twofold; one, she had no secret identity; and two, she'd been careless with her power. I was going to be careful; no sexual harassment, no mutilation, definitely no lethal force, and no spying on people in their personal lives.

Plus, I thought wryly, nobody would ever expect me to be a cape, so I was covered on the identity side of things.

I already had a costume, too. Likely as close to bulletproof I would ever have, not that I ever wanted to test that. Only step left was a name.

The best part about thinking of plans is how well it distracts you from the present. Sitting on a city bus, coated in juice, listening to music and tapping along, I painted a fairly odd picture. When my stop came up, I quickly got off, jogging towards my house.

Ugh. Sensing people gets awkward when you can feel neighbors getting it on. Keep jogging, you can't see anything. Remember that they're nice people.

I got home, quickly stripping out of my sticky clothes, and dumping out my backpack, then tossing everything in the wash before getting a shower. Washing my hair again was a pain; it was my one good feature, but it sure was difficult to keep nice, especially when it's sticky and clumped up.

While that was going on, I refreshed my control over the spiders and wasps residing in the basement, humming a little as I did so. It wouldn't do to have them revert to normal behavior; nothing screamed 'I'm a cape!' quite like an incredibly dense infestation of hornets and black widows.

I dried off, donned some basic clothing, and went downstairs to move the laundry.

Dad got home around 6. Balding, skinny, dressed in a loose button-up shirt and some brown slacks. He was pretty high up in the Dockworker's Union, an organization of blue-collar workers with no functioning docks to work. Rather unfortunate, since he was basically the guy in charge of finding them work.

He waved tiredly at my form where it lay prone on the couch, headphones tuned into a classical station as I watched some crime shows.

"Sorry Taylor, had a call, kept me out late."

"No problem."

"How was school?"

Should I tell him? "Fine." No, it'd just make him worry.

He moved on, the ritual complete.

New ritual. "What do you want for dinner?"

I had no idea what was in our fridge. "I don't know, I'll eat anything."

He poked his head around the corner. "Anything? You might regret that. We have brussels sprouts, after all."

Ugh. "Maybe not anything, but anything good. Maybe something with chicken?"

"Sure."

Ritual complete. 20 xp gained.

I could feel him working in the kitchen, moving the pots and pans around, digging out the meat and veggies and stuff. He worked fast, and within the hour, we had a delicious meal of chicken marsala and mushrooms on the table.

He looked up from his plate. "So, you remember Frank?"

Sure, I totally remembered Frank. There were three Franks at his work, maybe four. "Yeah?"

He gestured with his fork. "You'll never believe it. He joined Uber and Leet as a henchman last week. I heard they made him carry around a big jigsaw puzzle piece."

I snorted into my drink.

"What's so funny?"

"I saw their last 'caper'." So he was that henchman they had carrying their jiggies.

He smiled. "Tell me about it?"

I did, and we shared a laugh.

After dinner, we went our separate ways, each to their own bedroom. I lay awake, waiting for him to settle down, listening to the sweet dulcet tones of the local jazz station.


	3. Fandango 1-2

I caved. Have one more chapter.

Fandango 1.2

When the sound of a chainsaw choking out a motorcycle came down the hall, it was figurative music to my ears. I got up, and headed down to the basement.

I moved aside a box of knickknacks and other junk, revealing the vent covering the old coal chute, which I used to hide my costume. It was a spider silk full bodysuit, navy blue, with small, rather expensive patches of Kevlar embedded in it to supplement the fabric in important places. A stab test earlier had shown it was fairly knife-resistant; that was more than could be said for most people's first costume.

Lenses made of a pair of blue prescription ballistic goggles, sleek and clear. The mask was blank, featureless, but that somehow accented the feminine angles of my jaw, one of the features I owed my mother. The only real embellishments were two shawls of even thicker spider silk, in black, slung around my shoulders and tied around my hips, there both for extra protection, and to protect my decency, and a utility pouch along the small of my back. The only area not covered was the back of my head, because I just refused to let my one good feature be hidden.

It wasn't exactly easy to make, but I managed, and the effect, once I had it on, was stunning. My long black hair worked well with the shawl, and the navy was just far enough off black to be distinguishable in the dim light, providing contrast and slimming my figure even more. I didn't look terrible, other than the obvious flaws in my body type, and a few adjustments to the extra cloth bits helped cover those.

I grabbed my pepper spray, my MP3 player, some headphones, and a couple quarters in case I needed a call or a bus, and snuck out the back door, my costume creators flying a block or so up and back from me, safely out of sight.

Good evening, Brockton Bay.

* * *

Patrolling is hard work. This was the first lesson of the night.

Walking for hours on end was boring; walking for hours on end, at night, in costume, through gang territory? It was intimidating.

Listening to the radio as I walked helped less than I thought. In fact, the peppy, popular music playing just made the whole exercise even more strange.

Was somebody down this alleyway? Katie Fuller kept singing.

Was that a drug dealer? Shaniah Lawrence kept dropping her beat.

I mean, occasionally they'd play something good, but still, why not play some classics?

Maybe it was a little offensive to assume I'd find a criminal to catch. Crime rates couldn't be that bad, right? Winslow had to just be a recruiting ground.

People in this part of town weren't all bad, they just tended to be much more morally grey, simply because that was the only way to succeed here. The system only gave a shit about those who broke the norm; if the norm shifted, it stopped noticing how shitty stuff was becoming.

And these streets were so depressing. Buildings in dire need of far more than a fresh coat of paint, often with crumbling moldings and holes in the walls. I mean, my house wasn't much better, but that wasn't an excuse.

Also, there were way too many couples going at it. Not fun to be able to sense when people are doing the horizontal tango, even if my power wasn't affecting them. For that matter, there were too many pests. I'd felt firsthand what 'lousy' really meant, so I could definitively say these apartments and houses were lousy with bugs and rodents. I collected them with barely a thought, but it was kind of tedious.

Maybe in another life, I could have been a pest removal cape, but the city needed me for more than that. Besides, who would trust an exterminator who could do the same thing to the people living there?

Man, there was just nothing out here. Maybe I should check the warehouse district?

Ugh. More walking.

I was just getting ready to head home, tired of searching deserted alleyways and vacant warehouses, when I heard the distinct cracks and clatters of gunfire over the cheesy love song playing. Finally, something to do. Fuck that song, I needed something good. I hit a few buttons on the MP3 player, pulling up a playlist and hitting shuffle.

As I rounded the corner and the song began to play, I smiled. Perfect.

Now to deal with all these thugs.

* * *

I took in the scene as the familiar sounds of the opening of _Thriller_ began to play.

A short alleyway with a dead end, sandwiched between several warehouses.

ABB everywhere, the few with guns firing wildly into a cloud black as night, while those with melee weapons held them ready.

Fire streaming off an oversized man in a metal mask, wrestling a quadrupedal thing almost as large as he, a mass of bloody, torn meat and spurs of bone, with a long, prehensile tail and wicked claws. Oddly appropriate, considering the howls of the intro; there was something almost lycanthropic about it.

I began to work my craft as the music began.

A ripple went through every person in the alleyway, save the creatures and people I couldn't identify in the smoke. It went unnoticed, a shiver.

 _Buh-dun-dun-dun-Dun, dun, dun…_

Some of the ABB began to bob their heads, just a little, in tune with the music.

The first verse began.

 _It's close to midnight, and something evil's lurking in the dark…_

 _Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart…_

Feet tapped. The words were muttered, too low to hear from this distance.

 _You try to scream, but terror takes the sound before you make it…_

Lung shook off the beast, then followed with a burst of fire.

 _You start to freeze, as horror looks you right between the eyes…_

I took note of two thugs, each humming the tune as they waited for something to hit with their bats.

 _You're paralysed…_

The refrain began.

 _Cause this is thriller, thriller night! And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike…_

Another quadrupedal mass of bone and meat burst from the darkness, roaring and flailing as the small arms fire hit it, ramming into Lung. He wrapped an arm around the neck of the thing, grappling with it. The one he'd thrown lashed at a thug with its long tail, knocking him down and sending his pistol skittering across the asphalt.

As the refrain ended, and the second verse began, the motions of the thugs were starting to get fairly noticeable. Shots were being fired in time with the beats, thugs were tapping toes or humming, a few had even begun to sing quietly. One or two had given each other looks, then gone back to watching the fight between Lung and the monsters.

 _You close your eyes, and hope that this is just imagination…_

He was also showing signs, although they were less prevalent. Muscles twitched, and his foot kept sliding backward. His foes kept his attention, though, as he beat them back.

It took until the second refrain for someone to realize something was wrong. A yell, as larger movements began to enforce themselves among the group. By now, I had a dim awareness of their senses, and I could see them panicking, even as weapons fell from jazz hands and they started resisting the dance. Finally, someone had the wherewithal to yell for Lung.

It was about then I realized that I was still just standing in the entrance of the alleyway. Unfortunately for them, that was also when I remembered my swarms of pests.

 _Night creatures calling, the dead start to walk in their masquerade…_

Lung, now well on this way to nine feet tall, and coated in silvery scales, swung his attention my way within moments of realizing his men weren't having a spontaneous dance party. I summoned the swarms of bugs, forming nets of silk from dancing spiders and acrobatically inclined fliers. A veritable flood of dancing mice and rats hopped and bounced their way into the alley.

Lung threw off the creatures, delivering a sickening blow to one's jaw, and yelled at me in a voice like an avalanche. "YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INSOLENCE, GIRL!"

Wow, just a little bit less ham, please.

The music approached its third verse as Lung approached me at speed.

 _They're out to get you, there's demons closing in on every side…_

The beast he hadn't injured lunged at him from behind, and his counter-toss was interrupted by the twitches of his arms trying to do the dance movements. The thing latched onto his shoulder, and he roared in pain.

I swept completed nets over the two, trying to hinder and delay. Rats tried to bite his feet as they surged around him, but found no purchase on his hard scales.

He responded by bursting into flames, killing many of my rodents instantly, and making the creature yelp and let go in pain. Still, the nets melted onto him, hampering his movements long enough for the refrain to start.

 _That this is thriller, thriller night…_

By this point, his entire gang had fallen completely under my control. They launched into a coordinated zombie dance, and I could see through their eyes that the fog was dissipating, even as I focused on Lung. The beast was called off by a whistle, returning to a figure near the injured one.

Yet another refrain, and another application of silk nets, less effective now.

The gang leader in question was still heavily resisting my power, but I was making progress. It was just a matter of staying alive a few more minutes. He advanced on me, and I responded with a liberal application of pepper spray, eliciting another roar of pain as his rhythmically twitching hand covered his eyes.

The final refrain came to an end, and I selected a trio of thugs for the final part of the song. Ambiance was important, after all.

Lung recovered, but immediately bent over, his mouth splitting, and spurs beginning to form on his back. His legs, however, began to betray him, making him begin to step to the side, and barely responding to his commands.

The trio began to chant, gesturing and dancing in a more subdued fashion.

 _"Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand…"_

Lung roared, even as his body began to forcibly complete the movements of the dance.

"I KI' 'OU FO' DIS!"

He flung a few fireballs at me, but it was too late for him. The fire was easy to dodge, even at this range, made predictable by the beat of the music. He tried to attack me, but couldn't resist enough to do anything effective, his movements interrupted by jerks and twitches. His growth visibly slowed to a crawl, then stopped.

 _"And though you fight to stay alive, your body starts to shiver:"_

I watched him glare at me from his own eyes, felt him form the words with his strange mouth. No longer a roar, now a cold, vengeful anger.

"I wi' make 'ou _pay_ fo' dis, gur'. 'Ou wi' die screaming."

The thugs chanted in the background: _"For no mere mortal can resist, the evil of the thriller."_

Then Lung threw his head back, giving in to the evil laughter that ended the song.

A pause, then Bohemian Rhapsody began to play. I turned towards the end of the alleyway, striding towards the group which I had just saved the lives of.

There were four capes, unless the beasts were teammates too. A man in motorcycle leathers, with streams of the same darkness flowing off of him like a vantablack dry ice fog; a woman in a heavy fur-lined coat, wearing a cheap-looking dog mask, who was checking the… I guess it had to be a dog… with the jaw injury.

A girl in lavender, who seemed rather injured, cradling one of her arms and not looking up, and a boy in a costume that could charitably be called old-fashioned, and uncharitably referred to as drama club wannabe, who was holding his side. Surrounding them, a few knocked-out thugs, and a third of the dog things, standing guard.

It took them a minute to really get to paying attention to me, but that was fine. In the meantime, I dug out my MP3 player. I'd need a good song for the ABB to sing as I made them dance their way into custody. Something I could bear to listen to on loop for a while; as much as I enjoyed Bohemian Rhapsody, it did not loop well.

Ah, perfect. A classic among body-control music, and catchy enough to hear for the next half hour. I gestured for the group to follow me as Lung and his troupe of thugs began to form a conga line. Lung led the pack, still twitching occasionally, and began to sing in his throaty voice.

 _"DAY-OH. DA-A-AY-OH."_

The thugs joined in _. "Daylight come and me want to go home."_

I set them to parade off to a main thoroughfare. Hopefully the Protectorate could take them in before my control wore off. Finally, as the other capes approached me, I spoke.

"So, hi. I think introductions are in order."


	4. Fandango: Interlude 1

Fandango: Interlude 1

At a table, in a secluded, locked room, in the heart of a flying fortress, which hovers over the sea, casting a shadow on the city beneath with every passing day, a man surpasses the limits of what was thought possible.

 _Put the computational array next to the supercapacitor, cool both with the same thermal transduction element. Increase ratio of wiring to carbon substrate by a factor of 1.05, a 1% increase, thus adding 10 minutes to battery life across the board. Use extra space to fit my nanothorn prototype once completed._

A beep. He ignores it, going over his nanothorns.

A beep again. Again, ignored.

A third beep. He is startled out of his tinker fugue, but annoyed by the interruption.

He hits the button before it beeps again. "Yes?"

Hannah's voice rang over the comm. "Colin, you've got your patrol in 10 minutes."

He is surprised. "What? How long have I been in here?"

"Ten hours, twenty-seven minutes."

His stomach growled. Begrudgingly, he puts down his nanowelder and pushes away from the table. No time for a proper meal, so he unwraps a nutrient bar and shoves it in his mouth like a cigar as he suits up, occasionally taking a bite when a hand is free. The action of donning his armor is rote, memorized to the extent of being no harder than putting on a shirt.

He takes the last few bites of the bar, then dons his helm, making sure not to pull at his goatee as it slips past his chin. He toggles a switch, and the HUD flares to life on his visor. Systems check, optimal. Halberd retrieval tech, optimal. He lets that go on, scanning for any red or yellow as he picks up his cup of coffee, now cold, still efficiently delicious even at room temperature.

A design pops into his head, a coffee mug which keeps his coffee at perfect temperature for hours, and runs on heat and kinetic energy, recharging off the initially too-hot coffee and the act of moving the mug. He brushes it aside; maybe another time.

He pulls up the patrol schedule as he heads toward the elevator. Upper docks patrol, near the boat graveyard. Lung's territory.

He didn't foresee a conflict, but he was prepared for one. An ABB underground gambling bar had been trashed a few weeks ago, with the best suspects being the Undersiders, an elusive group of teenage villains. Either group could be there, but hopefully his Brute-rated tranquilizers would take care of the real threats before they could do damage.

If not, he would put them down himself.

* * *

Arriving in the hangar, he eased his bike into the transport, then linked into his comm.

"This is Armsmaster. I'm heading out on my 10:00 patrol."

"Roger that, good luck. I'll let you know if any calls come in." the PRT communications officer said. The transport took off, ferrying him to shore, and he took off his motorcycle.

The cycle, sometimes affectionately referred to as the Armsmobile or the Blue Hornet, was completely his own design, featuring enough stuff to fight his way through any high-speed chase, rations and repair tools for exceptionally long-distance travel, a micro-fusion generator which could charge his entire suit and array of weapons using only water, gyroscopic stabilizers so it never tumbled, an exceptional towing capacity, and completely silent operation.

Of course, he'd fixed that last flaw. What was the point of a motorcycle if it didn't draw attention when it needed to?

The 'engine' roared, he popped a wheelie, and took off into the Docks.

For an hour and a half, it was a quiet night. His 'engine' tended to let the small fry he was around, so he rarely needed to waste his time with what amounted to basic police work. He'd stopped an attempted mugging at 11:32, but left him tranquilized for the BBPD to gather.

A bit after midnight, the call he'd been hoping for came in.

"Armsmaster, reported disturbance in the warehouse district, about 10 minutes north of your position. Residents reporting gunfire and howling nearby."

"Sounds like the Lindt girl. I'm on my way."

Finally, some action. An arrest tonight would be good for his reputation, and good for the city in general. Lindt was a dangerous murderer with little restraint, and the Undersiders had been getting bolder with every job, stirring the pot during a dangerous time.

He sped up.

"Armsmaster, Lung is confirmed to be there. I'll send some backup."

"No, we can't afford to have the team out of commission right now. I'll confront him myself."

"Are you sure? Miss Militia is still on base- "

"I'm sure. I have countermeasures for Lung, and better mobility if they fail. I'm almost at the location now, and a gang war is brewing. The rest of the team cannot be out of commission when that happens."

"Acknowledged, Armsmaster. Stay safe out there."

He rode on, swooping through green lights, his visor feeding him a route.

Wait, what was that sound? Shouting, and lots of it. It must be the fight. He took a turn, speeding up, and blew through a few more lights. The shouting grew more rhythmic, familiar. Singing?

He rounded the corner. If this was all a prank then he would-

He stopped cold, his hands slack on the accelerator.

What.

Steadily making their way up the block was a line of men, dressed in colors of red and green, sporting all the signs of being the worst kind of gang members. In the front, a huge, shirtless, tattooed man, wearing a metal mask in the visage of a dragon, eyes glowing like fire. Lung.

They were singing at the top of their lungs.

Dancing a conga line.

And occasionally giving him looks of anger or fear.

Lung's hands pulsed with fire as he did another rolling motion, and his shouting took on an edge of aggression.

"Lung, stand down!"

He kept dancing.

"Console, this is Armsmaster. Either this is a prank, or Lung is under the influence of a strong Master. I'm going to attempt to subdue him." He turned to the troupe, walking with halberd raised in case of traps.

"Lung, you're under arrest for crimes including murder, parahuman assault, and kidnapping. I'm going to tranquilize you and your men, and we will do our best to remove the influence you are under and treat any injuries."

His hands burned hotter, his voice coming through gritted teeth. **_"Daylight come and me want to go home."_**

Armsmaster shot him with a tranq dart, then subdued each member in turn. By the time he'd reached the last one, the control was visibly fading, the man struggling.

These symptoms- were his suspicions correct? Was the villain called Regent actually the boy known as Hijack, a known murderer, kidnapper and rapist? And if so, why reveal it now, in such a showy fashion? Why hide it for so long?

Even scarier, he'd never shown such capacity for control before. He may have been holding back in the past. If this was really him, the teen might be stronger than his father.

This would need more investigation, that much was certain. But it would have to wait. With Lung captured, it would only be a matter of time before the Empire made a move. The Protectorate needed to prepare for war against a force with superior numbers.

Damn it all. He'd need to tinker faster, pull more long nights. The ABB had two powerful capes left, and one was a tinker. He and Kid Win would need to be on call to deal with any Tinkertech they encountered, and he would also be integral in the fights against the Empire. Coil might make a move as well, and there were the Undersiders to deal with on the sides.

War was coming to Brockton Bay. He needed to prepare.

The PRT vans pulled around the corner, and he tossed Lung's unconscious form over his shoulder.

* * *

He walked into his lab, and immediately strode over to the console, sending a video chat request to Dragon. As always, she picked up on the second ring, her digitally disguised face appearing on the leftmost screen as he pulled into his desk.

"Sorry if I woke you. I have an issue I might need to bounce off you."

Her visage smiled, perfectly averaged. "No problem, Colin. I don't sleep, actually, so this helps break the monotony of my nights. How can I help?"

He'd chop off an arm in a heartbeat for that particular quirk. Rather unhelpfully, his power began supplying designs for artificial limbs. He shook his head to clear the thought. It wasn't like he'd actually do that, just an expression.

"This is probably getting entered into the databases as we speak, but about half an hour ago, while on patrol, I encountered and captured Lung. Worse, he was under the influence of an unknown Master."

"Any suspects?"

"One. Locals heard howling noises, indicative of Hellhound, and by extension the Undersiders…"

"…Which means either they have a new Master, or Regent is Hijack, like we suspected. Okay, I can understand that, but what's your 'issue'?"

He took off his helmet, setting it on his workspace and pulling out his tools. "My issue," he began, popping off an access panel below the ear, "is that if it was Hijack, it was clear to me that he is far more powerful than we thought. I encountered not just Lung, but a total of twenty-two other ABB members, all Mastered, singing and dancing in a conga line down a street. Lung's powers were being suppressed, as well." He began unscrewing a nanochip from the nerve sensor behind the ear.

"Maybe he had a second Trigger event?"

His attention shot up to the screen, automatically meeting the camera with his stare. "A _what?_ I thought that was theory at best?"

She looked somewhat affronted at his reaction. He relaxed his posture somewhat as she answered. "Second triggers are rare, but far from impossible. My teammate, Narwhal, was unfortunate enough to experience one. Ever since, her forcefields have ignored the Manton Effect."

Colin rubbed his goatee, digesting the idea. Hijack's power, with limits removed? Hijack himself, put through a situation of such immense trauma, that he could trigger a second time? The power fit, as scary as it was; and the dancing could be a sign of a mental break, although that might be stretching it a bit. Still, all the more reason to complete tonight's project.

"That's… a terrifying prospect. Which brings me to what I called you about. I think I can make a psychic blocker device for my suit, but I need assistance to make sure I don't mess it up, especially since it needs to be a rush job. I figured you were the person to go to for that."

Dragon smiled again. "Of course, Colin. I'd be happy to help. Do you mind if we move to that assembly pad you set up?" He shook his head, already retightening the component so it wouldn't be damaged in transit.

The table in question had a large, mounted HD touchscreen, an array of gigapixel cameras, and a pair of robotic arms with interchangeable microtools, for precision work when his own human hands might fail him. It had been trivial to allow Dragon to operate them remotely, giving her a telepresence in his lab when needed. He still had to take over for the most delicate work, thanks to the tiny delay from the fiber optics between here and Vancouver, but it was worth it to bounce ideas off the greatest tinker alive.

"Okay, let's see here… the basic design involves scrambling background electrical fields triggered by nerve endings firing, thus insulating the body from effects that sense or control nerves. The problem I'm running into is how extensive such a technology would have to be; it would need to be systematically present throughout my entire suit, a full rebuild, and I don't have the time to do that."

She let out a 'hmm', thinking about it. "You certainly never give easy challenges, do you. Let's work on a single section, and see if inspiration starts to hit us."

He laid out a carbon microchip, she ran a quick diagnostic flex of the robotic arms, and they began etching microcircuitry. He stood at the console, guiding the arms in tandem with Dragon, occasionally pausing as a new idea struck them. They worked that way, like a well-crafted mechanism, well into the morning.

They made decent progress, but eventually, as the sun rose, Colin started drifting off. Dragon smiled a bit, and sent him off to his cot in the corner, finishing up the last few welds on the unfinished project.

Colin dreamt of thunder, of rain, and of electric sheep.


	5. Fandango 1-3

Fandango 1.3

"Actually, can introductions wait? Tats and I don't look too good," the one in the drama club outfit said with a pained voice, pointing to the blonde girl. I looked closer; she was barely conscious. She had a broken left arm, and her lavender bodysuit was singed all along her left side.

Okay, now I felt awkward. "Right, you can fill me in on the way to a hospital."

The musclebound man in leather nodded, then spoke, his voice echo-y and strange. "Right- wait, you're coming with us?"

Oh. Right, I had no idea who any of these people were. For all I knew, they were murderers and jerkbags. "I... uh, I guess not."

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that. Look, we owe you our lives for this, and we've got some spare cash from a recent job. Can you ride horseback?" I nodded. Nature camp had taught me something useful, it seemed. "Then climb up on Angelica over there, and we'll talk after. I'm Grue, by the way."

Okay, guess I'm going with them after all. Hope they're decent people.

Of course, if they weren't, I'd be pretty screwed.

"No," was the reply from the dog-masked girl. "Not riding my dogs."

"She saved their lives too, Bitch." I raised an eyebrow at that. Oh, in the female dog sense.

She stared at me, and I stared right back, until she looked away. "Fine, just one ride."

The Shakespeare-in-the-park guy groaned. "Great. If you all are done discussing, I humbly request that we pump me full of painkillers as soon as possible. Broken ribs hurt like a motherfucker."

"Right. Help me get him up on Judas here, and then I'll help you onto Angelica."

While we helped Renfair up, I checked in on Lung and his merry band of misfits. They were making good progress, and I could hear (through Lung) the distant sound of a motorcycle incoming. Hopefully that was Armsmaster, but just to be sure I made them up their volume.

 _ **"SIX FOOT, SEVEN FOOT, EIGHT FOOT BUNCH!"** yelled Lung._

 _ **"DAYLIGHT COME AND ME WANT TO GO HOME!"** responded a chorus of gangbangers._

There we go, now the cycle was getting close much faster. Happy trails.

"You hear something?"

"That'd be the conga line. Made them up their volume."

Renfair groaned. "Normally, I'd laugh, but it'd be far too painful. For now, just know I'm proud of you."

I smiled a little. "Aww, shucks, you mean it?" Then, more seriously, "Let's get you to a doctor." I swung up onto Angelica's back, and we rode.

Not a very comfortable ride, let me assure you.

* * *

I walked home in the light of early morning, mulling things over.

I'd been introduced to the Undersiders. Apparently, they were a low-level, well-funded group of small-time villains.

A few months ago, I would have walked away right there. Now, I knew how corrupt the system was, so I heard them out. I really didn't want to be independent, not after royally pissing off the ABB.

I had to admit, the deal Grue offered was tempting; two grand a month was more than my dad had made in his prime, and that was before any jobs. I'd have to find a cover story, but I had ideas about that.

It would help me relieve stress, and give me people to talk to. They weren't the most stable people, but they were far better than no friends at all.

Grue was a decent, no-nonsense kind of guy, and Regent either found my power hilarious, or was the most deadpan sarcastic ever; probably both. Bitch was kind of standoffish, but you couldn't win everything. No idea about Tattletale; it was kind of hard to trust someone who literally called themselves a secret-spiller, and I hadn't really gotten a chance to talk with her.

 _But_ , a part of me said, _they could be leading you on._

 _They'd be fools_ _to try,_ a part of me replied.

I sighed. Good thing they gave me some time to decide. Priority 1 today would be digging up info on their pasts. Priority 2 would be weighing my options, seeing if any other small groups existed in town, that kind of thing. I'd agreed to a meeting later tonight, but I couldn't just make this decision without thinking about it.

One upside; Armsmaster had managed to tranquilize Lung before my power had run out, so at least I wouldn't have to deal with his revenge. He was the PRT's problem now.

Ugh, I was tired. Priority 0: get home and sleep a bit before my run.

* * *

I rose with the sun, tired and cranky and sore. As tempting as it was to skip my morning run, I forced myself to get dressed and stumble out the door. Failing to run would leave me even more tired, and might alert my dad that something was up.

The air was brisk and chill, the pavement and sidewalks familiar. The music for today was rock, to psych myself up for the day, but it barely worked. I ran till I was a sweaty mess, and headed straight for my shower when I returned home, barely pausing for a "g'mornin'," mumbled by my dad over his coffee.

Sweet, blissful water, cold and refreshing; a couple slaps at my cheeks, to wake myself up; some singing along to the music. Maybe I should get a travel mug of tea? Strong tea. I'll just leave the bag in the thing, let it steep on the bus ride.

Shit, I forgot to fix my art project – crap, and I needed to refill my backpack, too! I shut off the shower in a rush, dried off as fast as I could, and pulled on just enough to be decent before I charged to my room.

Fuck, I had ten minutes to be at the bus stop, and it was four minutes away. I slowed down, realizing I couldn't make it. The fucking trio had ruined my life, and now I was late, and tired, and my undergarments needed dry-cleaning, and I'd lost the art project I'd worked so hard on, and it was all their fault. Fuck those bitches.

I went downstairs after pulling on some clothes. Dad had already left, so there was no getting a ride. I quietly made breakfast, music ringing hollow in my ears, too strong and energetic for my mood.

Okay, I could catch the next bus. It'd be fine. I wouldn't get to search up the info I wanted in first period, and Art would be awkward without my project, but at least I wouldn't be skipping again. I didn't want to attract attention like that.

I prepped my bag, ate my eggs, and caught the next bus, again ignoring the looks I received as a teenage girl got on a bus after 8, weaving my way to the back of the bus. The ride itself was delayed twice as a fat man in a mobility scooter got on and off the bus, wasting our time in exchange for a lift of just a few blocks.

By the time I got to school, second period was already in full swing. Someone, probably Madison, had put juice in my chair, which just pissed me off even more. I moved to the empty desk at the back, barely able to see past all the others, and took notes.

God, I was so tired. My brain responded by pointing out the travel mug of tea. I reached down and searched through my bag, before finally realizing that I left it at home. I had a mental image of the delicious, strong, sleep-banishing tea slowly growing cold on the counter. I put my head in my arms, defeated. My arms were bony, but warm, and I shifted them a little to cradle my head just so…

"Taylor, could you stay after class?"

Dammit, I'd drifted off. I sat up, nodded groggily to Mr. Gladly, mentally winced at the looks and giggles from the rest of the class. My music whispered faintly from the earbud I had in, slow and jazzy.

"As I was saying, Tonight, for homework, I want you to come up with examples of how capes have influenced society. Tomorrow, we will be doing group presentations based on tonight's work, so try to come up with unique examples."

He grinned, a toothy wide grin that I supposed was meant to be friendly, and clapped his hands together. "Okay, we have ten minutes to the bell, so feel free to talk quietly among yourselves or get a head start on the work!"

The classroom burst into noise, and I turned up my music, changing it to something more energetic. Right now, I was really tired, and dreading the chewing out I was going to receive, but I still jotted down some notes.

Capes had huge influence on society, anyone could see that; Earth Aleph was the perfect example. An entire alternate timeline where capes were rare, and where the entire next generation had ended up being made of entirely different people, just because almost everyone born after Scion had been influenced just a little by his appearance.

Aleph's music was less futuristic and electronic, and had much more variation. Their politics were boring and mundane even by political standards, and they had no S-class threats. Crime was low, low enough that incidents that would barely make a ripple here made waves in their media. Technology was less advanced on average, but more advanced in some areas like aerospace and travel technology.

The bell rang before I could get any further, and I slowly gathered my things and headed up to the front. Mr. Gladly was waiting up at his desk, straightening some papers. I walked up to his desk, and he looked up.

"Ah, Taylor. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

He gave me a look. "I could tell." A glance at his desk, then back to me. "Late night? A party or something?"

What? Just because he tried to be a popular teacher, associated with the popular kids, didn't mean that every high schooler had parties on school nights!

Or maybe, somehow, he knew I was a cape? No, it couldn't be. This was a guy who wanted to be called 'Mr. G', who stood idly by and did nothing about my bullies. How would he figure that out, but ignore how people really felt about his whole cool kid act?

"N-no. Just couldn't sleep."

He sighed. "Look, Taylor, I've seen the signs. Don't think I didn't notice you coming in late, and sitting in the back. If you have anything to say to me, I'm here. I just want to help."

The signs? He was acknowledging the bullying, even though he never did anything about it, offering an empty gesture of help, when he could have been helping this whole time? My anger rose.

'Maybe you could start by actually punishing the people who bully me. Maybe you could stand up when one of your students is going through hell, every day, right in front of you!'

I could have said that. Could have snapped, lashed out. It wouldn't have done anything, wouldn't have turned him to my side.

Instead, I just gave him the most incredulous look my tired face could muster, then turned to leave, flinging one little insult over my shoulder.

"But you won't."

I walked out the door, right into a trap.

"Heya Taylor. Had a good nap?"

Emma, Sophia, and a squad of bitches. I tried to walk past, but they herded me to the wall nearby.

"You know, the bags under her eyes actually help her face out."

"I think they make her look old. Wrinkly."

"So ugly I might puke."

"I hear she didn't even show up to class this morning."

"She'd probably like that. I hear she eats out of the toilet."

It was just random insults, being thrown at a wall. Nothing stuck. If I just waited, they'd let me be, lose interest.

"She's so flat!"

"Stupid, forgets her homework…"

"You sleep in today? Had nightmares?"

"… a slut…"

"…string bean…"

"…earbud girl, maybe she's a stripper…"

Mostly just talking past each other, contradicting things to try to get to me. I tuned it out, trying to focus on the music, ignoring the impulse to sway along or close my eyes.

"You work the streets last night? Put bread on the table?"

"…probably puts out for her dad…"

The music thrummed on, a hard, wild guitar.

"…smells like trash…"

"…loose down there, nobody wants her…"

I would have hummed, but that might just give them more ammunition. Crazy girl, lost in her head or something. Instead, I looked towards Emma, just in time for her stupid lips to open and say the next inane-

"Or did you cry yourself to sleep? Like after your mother died?"

Things were supposed to stop, when you hear something like that. You were supposed to get a moment to process, for it to sink in, for you to plan a reaction or steel yourself.

But the taunts kept flying, even as I stared at Emma. The music in my earbud kept playing, Gladly's door kept opening, and the burning in my eyes began.

Mr. Gladly stepped out of his room, glancing around. His eyes fell on me, and his expression turned briefly sad, as he walked away.

I almost didn't notice when Emma started humming along to my song. Almost didn't stop myself. Couldn't stop the tears, couldn't push past with Sophia there, couldn't do anything but glare at Emma, words forming on my lips even as I quelled my power.

"Don't. Not my mother. Not again."

Quieter than I wanted, not defiant, not pleading. Monotone, a statement.

She just smiled, a deranged, broken grin of sadistic glee.

"Of course, Tay-Tay."

The bell rang. They dispersed.

I left the school.


	6. Fandango 1-4

Fandango 1.4

It was before lunch, so I couldn't go home. Didn't have the money the Undersiders promised yet, and needed to research them anyway. I did have enough to drop by a coffee shop. I ordered a strong tea and the biggest, most unhealthy brownie they had, and sat there for a minute, eating.

Mmm, chocolate.

After my caffeine and confections had been consumed, I headed to the library, my mood somewhat recovered. I hummed along to the music, idly making some butterflies dance along in a nearby flowerbed.

I walked into the library, rented a computer, and sat down. I shouldn't stay long; people might wonder why a school-age teen wasn't at school, and I didn't need the attention.

Firing up the browser, I got onto PHO, and began browsing for info on the Undersiders.

Or I would have, if there was anything worth browsing for. The Undersiders were _nobodies_. Bitch was the only one I had even heard of, and I hadn't recognized her because the wikis all called her Hellhound, which had to be the most generic name I had ever heard. She was the most popular one among them, followed by Grue. Tattletale had a stub that basically said, "We are aware her costume incorporates the color lavender in some fashion," and Regent didn't even have a page on the wiki. I would have been upset by the lack of information, but I wasn't exactly looking for a flashy group.

Bitch did worry me, though; her past seemed checkered at best, based on her fan pages. I couldn't afford to reserve judgement here. I didn't know these people, not yet, and the lack of information made the decision harder to make. I still had to meet them tonight, and I wanted to have a plan by then.

Other cape teams in town. E88, ABB and Bridge Street Merchants, nope. Uber and Leet, unlikely. Coil? Nope, kills people, or otherwise has them killed. New Wave was a family team, and again, heroes, so probably wouldn't be friendly to a Master. Faultline's Crew?

I clicked the link, scanned the page. Faultline's Crew was a mercenary villain team, who did pretty much anything but murder. Much like the Undersiders, they'd be well-funded, so I wouldn't be short on money. They didn't get much flak from the heroes, as they only rarely did any jobs in town; but at the same time, I'd have to find reasons to leave for days at a time for work, while still in high school.

I sighed. I really didn't want to think about the thrill that idea gave me. I could just quit going to Winslow, let the bitches win. Join a merc crew, be a villain. But what would that do to Dad, knowing I was a high-end mercenary, putting aside my education and safety for the sake of a thrill? I wasn't ready to tell him how bad school was these days, and that would have to come out if I went that route.

Other independents in the Bay were just that: independent. They didn't want a teammate. Parian was a rogue, just wanted to make clothing, and Circus worked alone, and was versatile enough to escape if she pissed anyone off. There were some snippets about a guy named Browbeat, but I couldn't find much beyond that he was a Brute; he seemed fairly forgettable. The problems with a cape city, in a nutshell. The only way you stay independent is to never go out, or to be strong or quick enough to survive.

So, I had to decide. Go out as an independent hero, where my power would likely still make me a wanted woman, and where I had no safety net, but allowing me freedom? Join Faultline's Crew, with more safety in numbers and less heat, but sacrificing the last of my pride, my education, and alerting my dad to my cape life? Or the Undersiders, a riskier option, but one that let me keep my secrets?

I'd like to kid myself, say I wasn't mostly doing this for selfish reasons, but it wasn't really a choice. The Undersiders were the best option for me, right now. They seemed like okay people. I'd be upfront with them, ask about their histories, but barring complications, I could work with them.

Decision made, I checked on the forums.

At the top of the "Defeats and Captures" board was the listing for Lung's capture. I read the info given, but it was mostly speculation. The PRT did credit Armsmaster with his capture, but had apparently decided to keep the odd details of the victory to themselves, at least so far.

I was on their radar, though. No turning back now.

Other recent additions included an update to the ABB roster; A tinker named Bakuda had joined them recently, and her specialty looked pretty scary. She was responsible for the bomb threat at Cornell University a few months back, and as such, the best speculations said she created futuristic bombs. Combined with Oni Lee's tendency to do suicide bombings, it was a scary prospect. Worse, I had pissed them off last night, assuming word got out somehow; I would need to be on my guard.

I logged off the computer shortly after that, unsure of what I should do with my afternoon. Dad had a rather random schedule, so going home this early could raise questions. I had little money, and I didn't want to attract attention by playing hooky.

I could go patrolling- no, it wasn't a good idea. I might be powerful, but last night had made me aware of how important other people could be. Lung might have seriously injured me if not for Bitch's dogs, and there was no way I would have won against him if the alleyway hadn't been distracted.

I finally decided I was being stupid. I was in a library. I should just read awhile, put the morning out of mind a bit, listen to some more music. I headed to the stacks, and began to prowl.

Five hours later, I uncurled from the comfy chair and closed up _Maggie Holt and the Mysterious Stranger_. I debated borrowing it, then decided against it; I already had probably a hundred fifty bucks in textbooks to replace, and I didn't want to add a library book or two to that total. I sadly replaced the book in its spot on the shelves, committing the chapter number to memory in hopes that it might still be here when next I returned.

Catching the bus was hampered somewhat by the light rain that had approached as the afternoon wore on, but I got to the stop before I got too soaked. It did darken my mood; I was once again reminded of the day before, and once again I endured the glances as I got onto the bus, dripping a bit as I made my way to the back.

The ride was uneventful; a few ABB got on, but they made no trouble. I got off the bus, ran home in the rain, and noted the lack of a truck in the driveway as I made my way inside. I still had a few hours before the scheduled meeting, so I changed into some dry clothes, then got started on dinner.

I started up the water and preheated the oven, then dug out the ingredients to craft a tasty spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread. Meatballs were added to sauce to cook, mushrooms were chopped and sautéed, onion followed in kind. I mixed and melted garlic butter, added some sugar, parsley, and pepper, and brushed it onto the sliced Italian bread, humming along to the local classic rock station. It really was too bad they couldn't reach the whole city, but I picked it up okay at home.

Bread went in the oven, music went up, and I rocked out to some Led Zeppelin. Food got stirred, bread was checked, and I bobbed my head as Gimme Three Steps started up.

I may have busted out an air guitar for some parts of it.

Too soon, though, the song was done, and so were the other things. I unceremoniously dropped the guitar, diving into a flurry of activity to keep everything from burning and overboiling. I managed it, although I hoped Dad liked his garlic bread on the crispy side.

Speaking of which, there was no sign of him. His hours were flexible, based mostly on how many positions he could fill that day from the near-endless pool of unemployed Dockworkers.

I served up my food and sat down, twirling the spaghetti in time with the music. Ironically, ever since I had resigned myself to a life outside the hero teams, I had begun to realize just how far dad and I had drifted apart, and made a point to spend more time with him.

That said, I still couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth about the bitches, and telling him about my powers was just a bad idea in general. I couldn't exactly let him know about my plans for the night without that, and I hated lying to his face.

I speared another meatball, eating it with a bite of garlic bread. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn't home tonight. That decided, I finished my meal in a decidedly unladylike haste, and scribbled a note. Checking out a job offer, taking pepper spray, food in fridge, be back later; it seemed convincingly casual, and it wasn't even lying.

I put my costume and pepper spray in a tote, mentally beckoned my critters to dance along, and headed out into the twilight, whistling along to Devil Went Down to Georgia.

* * *

The meeting place was up north, surprisingly close to the alley we'd met in last night; a dismal, broken down area, filled with people the city had forgotten. The buses rarely came out this far; the few businesses that operated here were small, run-down stores that looked closed to my outsider's perspective; power was a luxury on some streets. Ostensibly, the ABB owned this area, but as things got closer to the old port and the boat graveyard, the lines between ABB territory and plain shithole started to blur.

I should have guessed that it was a good place for a small team to work from. Nobody would even care as long as they didn't interrupt the Lord's Street Market, which was only a few blocks away.

The building in question was an abandoned factory, red brick, massive yet shattered by time. The sign above the rusted loading bay door proclaimed to the barren, cracked street that this had been the home of "Redmond Welding", at least in its heyday. Now, it was a microcosm of the state of the Docks as a whole; crumbling, faded, full of vermin, and overgrown with weeds.

I made my way around the back, quickly changing into my costume, then made my way into a side door. Almost without thinking, I had taken the mice and bugs, and as I opened the door, they began forming little groups, swirling and marching to the music in the shadows. Four people and three dogs were inside, and while I didn't expect this to be a trap, I felt better having something to fall back on.

I closed the door, intentionally slamming it to draw attention. The people upstairs helped the girl on the couch- presumably Tattletale- up, and made their way down a spiral staircase while I waited.

First down the staircase was- shit, they didn't wear their masks?

I could tell it was Grue; his movements and body type fit. In the dim light, I made out a black tank top over rippling, toned muscles, dark skin, a strong chin, and either dreadlocks or corn rows, I wasn't entirely sure.

Behind him, taking the stairs carefully because his arm was in a light sling, was Regent. Under the mask, he was a stereotypical pretty boy; dark curls, sharp, almost feminine features, and lanky. For whatever reason, he was wearing a half-buttoned shirt, leaving it open in a 'V' through which I could see the wraps of bandages covering his chest.

Tattletale was next, a cute blonde with freckles and a quiet, knowing smile that widened as she looked my way. Surprising, since she was also in a sling, and distinctly favoring her left side; she must have been either hopped up on painkillers, or trying to power through her pain.

Lastly, Rachel Lindt, or her preferred name, Bitch, came down the stairs, followed closely by her dogs. She herself was large of build and strange of posture; her dogs were attentive, calm, and extremely well-trained, considering the mice they no doubt heard and ignored.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and I called out from across the derelict factory floor.

"Why didn't you wear your masks?"

Grue turned to me, and I strode out under a dim, dusty bulb, so he could see me better.

He shrugged, his expression that sort of confused 'I figured it was obvious' look people get. "We wanted to show some trust, for one. Figured thanking you face-to-face was better than some tense costumed meeting in a dark alleyway, you know?"

Regent piped up; "Yeah, plus the alleyway thing was just this side of cliché," pinching his good hand, "just before it went from 'too cliché', to 'so cliché it's funny'."

Grue sighed. "Ignore him, he's the team's loveable idiot. Every team needs one, or they get too gritty." He smiled conspiratorially, ignoring the punch that comment earned him. "You know how it is."

Bitch was looking straight at me again, like she had some problem with me. I met her eyes, trying to understand why she might have a problem with me; did I remind her of someone? Maybe she just didn't like outsiders. She dropped her gaze.

Tattletale spoke up, her voice slightly tinged with strain. "Why don't we head upstairs, and talk business? You could put your music on in the background, relax a bit."

I thought about it. If they had speakers upstairs, this was probably their base, and I had no idea of half their powers, or what kind of people they were. On the other hand, I did want to sit down; my legs were tired from the long walk, and it wasn't like they were more likely to have boobytrapped the actual base without boobytrapping downstairs first.

I nodded my assent, and Bitch was the first back upstairs. Following the others, I ascended the staircase, leaving the vermin to their dancing.


	7. Fandango 1-5

Fandango 1.5

Stepping from that dark and filthy factory floor into their loft was like crossing into another world. Downstairs, the machinery was rusting away, the air was filled with hanging cords and hoses, and there was a heavy layer of dust. Here, I was greeted with a comfortable lounge, a massively overdone entertainment center, a punching bag, cubicle-esque rooms, and enough free floorspace to fit most of my house in. Of particular note were the artistic choices; someone was a budding artist here, because the paintings on the doors in the hallway were excellent.

"Nice art," I said. Bitch disappeared down the hallway. Regent opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the slamming of a door.

An awkward silence followed, cut only by the peppy tune of "Beat It" in my ears.

Finally, Tattletale broke the silence. "Brian, could you be a dear and help me sit down?" Grue, who I guess was Brian, complied, and I followed, sitting down on the couch across from her. Regent plopped down on the far side of the same couch, stretching out to take up two seats, and Grue headed into the kitchen area.

"So, hi. We didn't get to talk much last night. First off, thanks for saving our asses." She grinned. I swear, she looked like a cartoon fox, and the freckles didn't do much to dispel the look. "And in such a cathartic fashion, too. You would not believe how much fun I had watching the helmetcam footage today."

Next to me, Regent let out a laugh, then coughed. "Been doing way too much laughing today," he commented after recovering. "You mind filling us in on what the hell you did to those guys?"

"Alec, maybe wait a minute before interrogating her?" Gru- Brian returned, carrying something. He strode over, offering me what turned out to be a lunchbox, probably a collectible one, with a likeness of Alexandria on it.

Mixed feelings struck me as I looked at the image; as a kid, all I ever wanted was to be a hero, to be like Alexandria, but here I was, about to join a team of villains. It wasn't my fault; the system was biased and broken; but I would never be the hero I wanted to be, and it hadn't really sunk in till now.

I opened the lunchbox, glancing over the stacks of bills, then set it aside. Grue – Brian – spoke.

"Two thousand cash, all clean money. Like I said last night, we can't thank you enough."

I nodded, focusing on my music to break my stupor. _Showin' how funky and strong is your fight…_

He took the black-and-purple beanbag chair from near the tv, brought it over to face the couch and Tattletale's armchair, and plopped down into it. He gestured to the lunchbox.

"It's yours, regardless of where we go from here. You could walk out right now, and as long as you didn't mess with our lives outside the Undersiders, we'd have no problems." He paused, frowning, as he thought over what he just said. "I didn't mean… look, I'm sorry, I said that wrong. I just mean that we don't want to pressure you or anything. We'd like to ask you to join the team."

There it was. They wanted a new member, and seemed like okay people. Was I ready for this?

"I have a few questions, before I make any decisions."

He nodded, as did Tattletale. "Sure thing, fire away."

"Criminal histories? Anything bad?"

Tattletale looked uncomfortable, but answered. "We do hit-and runs, mostly. No long-term kidnapping, no murder, as little fighting as we can. As for criminal histories, you know some of Rachel's, although I should mention that the murders on her record were accidental. She just makes dogs strong, if they're untrained she can't control them. So the first one she made big… you get the idea. Other than that, it's mostly theft and minor assault." Regent – Alec, I reminded myself – adjusted his seating, and Tattletale glanced his way before asking, "Next question?"

I thought about it. "Why is Rachel not here for this? You guys are a team, right?"

Brian answered this one. "Rachel doesn't get along well with others, and is understandably opposed to splitting future takes five ways instead of four. She puts most of her money into dog care."

"Okay…" Maybe I can work something out with her. Actually, doing work with dogs might even make a good cover story. It wouldn't cover the money, but I didn't exactly have a plan for that. Speaking of which… "Money management. Can't exactly keep money in cash, right?"

Tattletale's knowing grin grew ever wider. "Our backer sets us up with a third-party banker called The Number Man. Not only is the monitoring so good that I doubt I could steal from him, but the guy invests a bit of the money, and I've yet to see my bank account drop."

Okay, it was all sounding good. At this point, I was probably just stalling. I stood up.

"Bathroom's the middle door on the far side," Tattletale said as I stood. I gave her a nod, heading over with tote in hand.

I closed the door, catching myself in the mirror for a moment before I began to change. Into the bag went the dark fabric, and on went the jeans and t-shirt, the glasses, the headphones. I brushed my hair out with my fingers, staring myself down in the mirror.

This was it. The moment of truth. Doubts rushed through my head- what if they didn't want a gawky girl? What if they wanted to betray me? What if I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life? My hand clenched around the mask, gripped the edges of the porcelain sink.

"You can do this, Taylor," I murmured to the girl in the mirror. "You're strong, you're confident, and you can _do this._ " I took a deep breath in, then let it out, whispers of the song in my ears brushing my lips in a familiar and comforting way. My arms relaxed, and I turned away from the mirror, dropping the mask into the tote bag and gathering it up.

I opened the door, and stepped out into the vast living area. Heads turned to face me, a mixture of expressions taking in all my little flaws. I spoke.

"I'm Taylor. Nice to meet you all."

A pause.

Alec snorted. "Nice intro, dork."

Brian reached over and smacked his arm as I crossed the room. I strode past the pair, hooking up my mp3 player to the speaker system. I picked out a rather appropriate song: Smooth Criminal.

The choice earned smiles as I walked back over and plopped onto the couch, shoving aside Alec's feet.

"So, as I was saying…" began Alec, "How the hell did you make Lung do a conga line?"

"It's my power," I said, shrugging. "I make things dance."

"That is easily the best power description I've ever heard," he replied, deadpan.

I really just had no idea how to respond to that. "Umm… thanks?"

"You're welcome, dancing queen." Nonono, line in the sand time.

"No, don't you dare start that! I'm not going to be called "Dancing Queen", it just sounds stupid!"

He just smirked. Brian intervened before any more banter could be exchanged.

"Alright then. In case you didn't catch it yet, I'm Brian, he's an idiot, this is Lisa, and Bitch is also known on occasion as Rachel. I think we should go around and talk over our powers." Alec looked bored by the suggestion, but he cut him off. "We can go over your powers after Lisa explains her power, for reasons that will shortly become obvious. Lise?"

She turned to me, smiling, but not in the almost vulpine fashion that she seemed to enjoy. A friendly smile. "I try to pass my power off as being psychic, on the rare occasion I've had to confront someone with it, but really, it's more like being Sherlock Holmes. I get random facts and information from everything, lets me ferret out details like passwords, weaknesses, quirks of powers, et cetera, but occasionally grants me the boon of killer migraines."

That… was terrifying. She could find out the deepest, darkest secrets of anyone she saw. I wasn't aware of any incredible secrets I had for her to spill, but still…

"I get it, it sounds scary. I can't blame you for that, although I should mention that my cape name doesn't really describe me all that well." There was that grin. Despite that, she seemed genuine, and downright friendly and open. "I can't really stop my power entirely, but I won't go spilling any secrets on you," she finished.

"Okay then. My power. Um." You're blowing it, Taylor. Be confident! "I can sense living things around me, and take control of them by making them start to dance to the music I'm listening to. After that, I can keep them dancing for a while, even if they leave my range. I haven't been able to make anything do anything that wasn't at least related to the song I was listening to, and I start losing control if I'm not listening to something." Plus, I really didn't like not having music on anymore. "Oh, and I slowly gain their senses as they get more into the dance. I think that's about it."

Lisa chimed in. "You've got more than that. You move to the rhythm of whatever you're listening to, did you know that? Steps in time with the beat, flowing motions; it's subtle, but it's there. I think you might have some extra spatial awareness too, although I'm mostly guessing on that."

"Jesus, that's a strong power," Brian remarked. "Though, I guess I should have expected that, considering. How big is this area, by the way?"

"I don't know, about a block on every side?"

He grinned. "Holy crap, Lung never stood a chance."

"Actually," Lisa interrupted, "her power gets slower as things get bigger, so if Lung had gotten too much larger, he might have bought enough time to get her, or get away."

"Got it in one. I got lucky last night."

Alec snorted. "Phrasing." I flushed a little at the implication.

"One more question, by the way. Where'd you buy the costume?"

Huh? "I didn't…"

"What, you stole it?"

Lisa came to my rescue. "She made it herself. Spider silk, right?"

I nodded. "Some Kevlar, too, but yeah." I smiled a little to myself, remembering how I'd made my costume. "I just make hornets dance, have them pick up spiders, and have them do some aerial acrobatics while the spiders spin silk, then run it over with another set of spiders and some sticky silk, and finally layer another sheet of weave. Instant silk cloth, although it's kind of draining on the spiders." There was nothing quite so fun as having legions of bugs weave cloth in midair to the tune of Ride of the Valkyries, or a Disney song.

"That… is simultaneously hilarious and terrifying. You weaved your costume like a Disney princess, but with bugs?"

"Yes?"

"Well, umm… good job. It looks like professional work." He coughed, clearly feeling at least a little awkward. "Anyways, my powers."

"I saw it described as darkness generation online?"

"I put that up myself, to make people underestimate me. It's more than darkness; it also kills sound, and Lisa thinks it can block radiation and stuff like phone signals, microwaves, all that stuff. I can see and hear through it, but it's pretty good cover, and apparently very disorienting. Alec?"

"Give me a sec." He adjusted his position on the couch, going from laying down to sitting up, so he could look at me. He seemed to be thinking about something. Finally, he spoke up.

"Okay, so, to everyone outside this team, I have a pretty weak power. I cause twitches, spasms, and cramps, and can only do up to a few people at a time. Good timing, I can screw with them in key moments, make them shoot themselves in the foot, or trip, or miss a punch. Weak, but useful, yeah?" He went to shrug, and winced, then continued, looking bored.

"I can do more than that, given time, though. I'm really mapping out the nervous system when I make people twitch, and if I spend a few hours doing that, I can control the person remotely. All their senses, all that jazz, but instead of a timer, it's a radius thing, and there's no dancing unless I make it happen.

"I wasn't gonna tell our next recruit about that part of my power, because I know it would creep most people out, and I'm probably not going to use it again. You, though, get to be an exception, because your power is really similar to mine, and while I'm not signing up for some heart-to-heart bullshit, I figured you'd like knowing there were others like that."

Wow. I got the feeling that he'd really put a lot into that, despite the flat, almost emotionless delivery. "Thanks, for that. It does help." He didn't seem like a talker, either, so it said a lot that he'd let me know about that.

"Don't make a big deal of it."

"Of course."

Lisa spoke up. "Well, anyway. Rachel pumps up dogs, makes them into the things you saw last night. She's really touchy about dogs in general, so please, no jokes about kicking you-know-whats. She's abrasive, but you learn to let that go after a while."

That reminded me, I needed to talk to her. She was currently in the back cubicle-room, sitting next to a dog, probably grooming it based on their relative positions.

I stood up, but was hit by a wave of exhaustion. Was something wrong? No, I realized. I was just crashing after an afternoon of being awake thanks to my good friend, caffeine. Crashing after I was already running on two hours of sleep.

"Shit. I need to get home."

Lisa frowned. "Really? It's already like 9:30, why not just spend the night?"

"Because I left a note saying I'd be home late, and that I was going out for a job interview."

She smiled. "Okay, so all we need is to come up with a good cover story. Easy."

I mean, that worked, but…" You can sleep on the couches, or in my room." Geez, she really did seem psychic. "We're gonna clear out our storage closet as a spare bedroom, just in case, but Bitch is busy, Brian needs to get home himself, Alec has a lightly fractured collarbone and ribs, and I'm sporting a broken arm and burns myself, so it might be a week or two coming."

I sighed, walking over and taking my mp3 player from the stereo, plugging in my headphones, and donning them. "Alright, fine. Let's call him up, assuming you have a good story."

And that was how I came to be employed as a tester by an indie game studio based out of Brockton Bay, and how my father came to meet my new friend and coworker, Lisa, over the phone.


	8. Fandango 1-6

Fandango 1.6

I woke up at the crack of dawn, and immediately jolted awake, greeted by an unfamiliar room, a strange bed, and a distinct lack of an alarm clock to shut off. One of my earbuds had fallen out, so I put it back in as the events of yesterday slowly seeped through the grogginess of my sleepy brain.

Right. I'd nope'd out of school, decided to join a group of thieves with hearts of gold, lied to my dad about my new employer, and slept over. I facepalmed. Great job, past me. My hand slid down to cover my mouth, stifling a yawn. I didn't want to get out of the bed; it was one of those really plush foam mattresses that just envelops you, and it was cozy as heck. I yawned again, bit the bullet, and got out of the warm cocoon of blankets into the chill air of the room.

Oof, it was colder than I thought. I grabbed a blanket, and swept it over myself like a cape, dragging it behind myself as I gathered my mp3 player and tote of costume-holding, and made my way out to the kitchen in search of tea. I winced as the door closed a little hard, rousing the sleeping form of Lisa over in the entertainment area.

She rolled over, groaned in pain, and got up. I waved sheepishly as she looked at me from across the room, rubbing her eyes.

"Really? Why are you… you get up for a run every morning? Ugh. Fitness nuts." She gave me another look of confusion. "I guess I'll get up. You mind fixing some bacon for me? Shower might take a minute, with the bandages and all." I nodded to her, then made my way to the kitchen to cook up a quick breakfast.

Philistines. They had one teabag, and it was a cheap store brand. I grudgingly put a mug of water in their microwave, resolving to fix this problem another day as I heated it.

Breakfast was made, and the others began to stir in their rooms. I flipped the bacon as Rachel's dogs whined at the door to her room. I felt kind of awkward, working in an unfamiliar kitchen, cooking for a group of supervillains, but then again, I was a part of their team now. This loft was as much my base as theirs.

Rachel got up, and made her way out. I steeled myself, then called out. "Hey, Rachel… can we talk?"

She walked past, scowling, giving little more than a huff of indignation. I pressed on. "Are you taking your dogs on a walk?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"If you wait a few minutes, I was gonna go for a run. I could use some company, and we could eat first."

She huffed again, but sat down. "Fine, but I'm not gonna wait for you if you fall behind." I nodded, turned back to the skillet, fished out the bacon onto a plate.

Lisa finished her shower, and Alec came out. I grabbed my tea, drinking the boring, bland, cheap leaf juice down. Coffee might have been better.

* * *

Rachel and I walked in silence for a while, just letting the dogs get some exercise, enjoying the fact that that classic rock station apparently covered the northern half of the city pretty well. I used the time to think about some things.

I had school in an hour or so, but while I could make excuses, I just really didn't want to bother with it. I didn't have my homework assignments, I would have to go home and change, and I needed to meet some of my teachers to buy new textbooks after school, anyway. Emma could go fuck herself, because she wasn't getting to fuck with me today.

"You got a problem?"

I looked at Rachel. She clarified. "You're pissed off, anyone could tell."

"It's nothing. Personal stuff."

She grunted, and lapsed back into silence.

The rottweiler sniffed at a fire hydrant.

"What are their names?"

She pointed to the rottweiler. "Brutus," the german shepherd, "Judas," and the terrier, "Angelica."

"Lisa told me part of the reason you don't like me is that the take will be split." It spilled out, uncontrolled. I rallied, using the feeling of thousands of dancing creatures to help center my thoughts. She was glaring at me, staring me right in the eyes.

"I- I wanted to say, I'd like to help out somehow. Make it up to you." I paused. "My powers let me feel life around me, maybe I could check for parasites? Help you train them, or something? I don't kn-"

"Stop talking. It's annoying." I opened my mouth to protest, then thought better of it. She was rude, but I could see how my awkward chatter could be messing things up. We walked on, quiet, an advertising jingle playing on the radio.

"You feel any problems with Judas?"

I checked, paying closer attention to him. "He's got a few half-dead fleas, some skin mites. Nothing internal, and I'm getting the fleas off now."

"Good. You busy today?" I shook my head. "Then we'll go check on my other dogs. Don't trust the pounds to check them right."

I nodded. "Okay, sounds like a plan. Thanks."

She grunted her acceptance, and we lapsed back into silence for the rest of the walk.

* * *

Plans were all well and good, but they rarely survive contact with unforeseen circumstances. In this case, I failed to predict how Lisa expected to spend the day.

"But I don't want a phone!"

"Too bad! We need a good way to contact you, and a landline won't come close to doing that!"

Lisa dragged me, kicking and screaming, into the electronics store.

"I'd get you burners, like me, but those suck for music storage-"

"-I have an mp3 player!"

"-Yeah, a crappy one. No Bluetooth, barely a half a gigabyte of storage, bought off a shelf in a gas station! The thing uses an actual triple-A battery, for Pete's sake!"

I managed to break her grip on my hoodie, struggling away from the villain before me. "I don't like phones," I stated flatly, recovering and giving her a look. If her power was worth its salt, she'd understand.

"Look, I get it, but it's the only way. Just pretend it's an mp3 player that you can make calls on!" She pulled my sleeve, bringing me over to a display. "Look, this one has a good battery and great audio quality. C'mon, it's an upgrade over that little player you use!"

Okay, she had a point. I didn't like it, but she did. I sighed, mumbled acquiescence, and nodded. She smiled. "Great!"

We picked out a phone, paid using Lisa's carbon-black debit card, and stepped out into the mall.

"Now, about your wardrobe…"

I groaned. Why did I join a group of supervillains?

* * *

We finally exited the mall, laden with purchases both necessary and begrudged. I was pretty sure I wouldn't wear two-thirds of the stuff she bought me, but I had to admit, it had improved my mood. Lisa seemed genuinely interested in being my friend, and I was the first to admit that it was nice to feel that again.

Crap. Now I was thinking of Emma again, and it was killing my mood. I focused on the music on my soon-to-be-replaced radio, immersing myself in the electronic tones for a bit, to take my mind off things. I opened my eyes again as I sensed Lisa's head turn to me, but she turned back towards the sidewalk, so I shrugged and kept walking.

"So, why do you want to be on our team?"

The question came out of nowhere, surprising me. I noted how we were basically alone on our walk, with no one around to overhear us. Was this a trap?

"It's not a trap, just a genuine question. Why us? Why are you joining a big bad group of villains?" She kept walking, gesturing like she was talking about normal things. "I can tell you want to be a hero, and I can get your basic reasoning for not doing that, but it's hard to square away your motivation for being a villain, you know?"

I gave her a look, then replied, "If Super-Mycroft can't figure it out, why do you think I would? I need a way to burn off steam, I guess." I shrugged. "Your team was a good choice? I'd already got an in, with the other night? I really don't have an answer, there."

"Sorry, should have figured. Stupid codeine is messing with my judgement and impulse control." She paused, then awkwardly tried to change the subject. "So, you managed to patch things up with Rachel?"

"I hope so. She really does care about her dogs, and I offered to be a pest remover, so, you know, that's a thing." I adjusted the massive bags so they didn't dig into my fingers, and continued. "My powers really made me more aware of pets. Never had one, but when you can literally sense how often others interact with their pets, it really gives you some appreciation for the impact they have on people."

"Hmm. Never really considered it that way. No wonder you got along with her."

"So, about this game company I'm a tester for…"

She facepalmed. "Right, I need to call the boss and set that up."

"Boss? Who's that?"

"Oh, right. We have a 'mysterious boss' who apparently likes having a group of villains on retainer. Can't tell you much more than that; he made me swear to keep his other information secret, I'm sure you understand."

I didn't exactly like that; mysterious authority figures were one of my least-liked things in life, after all; but there was little I could do about that now.

"You mind if I duck into an alleyway for a minute, get you set up? I'll also see about ordering some basic combat stuff."

"Sure." She did exactly that, and I stood on the sidewalk to pretend to be on lookout, in case someone was watching.

"Hey boss, need you to pull some strings…" I tuned her out, enjoying a particularly nice bass drop. A small group of people stepped into range on the sidewalk on the far side of the buildings we faced, then walked out of range again. I made some rats do pirouettes. In short, I killed my boredom for a few minutes.

"Hey Taylor? Yo, Taylor!" I turned my head, and Lisa continued, "Do you want anything special? Nothing crazy, but anything you wish you could have bought for yourself?"

I thought about it for a minute, then said, "Maybe a speaker? Something I can wear, make it less obvious that they don't need to hear the music?"

She nodded, and repeated the request. A few moments later, she finished up the call.

"Okay, let's go get some food. I'll fill you in on your employment details on the way."

* * *

We walked into a hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant, ordered enough falafel and gyros to feed five hungry teenagers, and walked out a few minutes later, now with Lisa's good arm similarly laden with bags o' stuff. I set off in the direction of the old welding building, running over the new information aloud.

"So, I work for Deep Facet Games, a rhythm game studio based in Brockton Bay? And I'm working on testing their next game, 'Project S'?"

"Yes… why are you repeating this?"

"Just making sure I have my facts straight. So, this is an actual company, and he's arranging for them to actually get feedback from 'me'?"

"Yup. And you actually can play their games, if you want. It's legal employment. Congrats on being a professional alpha tester."

"How the heck did the 'mysterious boss' set that up over a few minutes? That seems like something that would take a few days to do."

"Everyone has a price, and he has money to burn. He set Brian up as a gainfully employed private fitness instructor, and any government check finds several of the less insular clients do indeed attend classes with him. It's actually pretty easy to set up a fake job, as long as you have money to set it up with."

It kind of hurt to know that I was employed thanks to bribery, but at least it was fairly harmless bribery. Still… "I should probably get a new computer, to sell the idea to my dad, right?"

"Uhuh, and you can explain your new phone that way too. Need access to a phone if you have a job." She shot me a look as I opened the door to the base. "Oh, stop grumbling internally. You have to join us in the realm of modern technology eventually!"

"I wasn't grumbling internally!"

"Yeah, right," she said sarcastically, "Of course you weren't. And no, your powers do not include giving me headaches by glaring at me, so stop wishing they did."

I pouted a little for show, doing my best to hide a smile. It really was nice to have a friend again. Speaking of which…

"We've got lunch!" A chorus of acknowledgements came from around the loft. I set down the bags, resolving to leave most of it here, and made my way over to the kitchen to claim my share of the food.


	9. Fandango 1-7

Fandango 1.7

After lunch, Rachel walked up to me, handed me a bag, and told me to follow her. I dutifully followed, offering an apology for not being free this morning, which was ignored.

She wasn't exactly a social person. Then again, neither was I, so it wasn't quite as awkward as possible on the way to our destination. Brutus seemed eager, at least, judging by how he trotted happily at my side. Judas and Angelica did much the same on Rachel's leashes, sniffing the occasional item of interest, but keeping up with the group.

"They're very well trained. You train them yourself?" It was the only thing I could think of to talk about.

She nodded. "Others always mess things up. Dogs need a bond."

I nodded in turn. "How long have you had them?"

"Brutus, a few years. Judas too. Angelica was only about a year ago." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why are you asking me questions?"

I shrugged, going for the honest answer. "I'm interested. I've got to know this stuff if we're gonna be a team, right?"

"No," she said flatly.

That threw me off, but I rallied. "Of course we do. You wouldn't bring an unfamiliar dog with you on a mission, right? Same idea. I'm unfamiliar with you, and you are with me. Let's get to know one another, so we can work together." _Really, Taylor? Dog comparisons for the dog handler? Great job, really inspired. Next, you'll say you should sniff butts and_ \- let's just put a moratorium on that mental image right now. Ugh, it was in my head. Asses, everywhere.

While I was floundering with that, Rachel had been silent. I was saved from my crashing train of thought by her asking me a question.

"What's your thing?"

Okay, maybe the train was still crashing, because it took me a second to process the question in a way that didn't involve things I didn't want to think about. "M-my powers?" She nodded.

"I make stuff dance. That's about it." She frowned, and I lapsed back into awkward silence. After another minute, I had my thoughts together enough to remember the original conversation. I'd been going somewhere with the conversation before it'd been derailed… right.

"You've really got a gift, you know that?" She shot me a look, but I continued. "With training dogs. I don't know the first thing about it, other than it being really difficult to do well. All I do is force things to do stuff, but your dogs do stuff because they trust you. I envy that."

She remained silent, and I just shut up. I'd tried my best; really poured my heart out there; and either she didn't care, or didn't want to. I walked in silence, head down, no longer in the mood for the peppy electronic music in my ears.

"You walk like an alpha."

My head shot up, and I said "What?" in a slightly shaky voice. I cleared my throat, and clarified, "What do you mean?"

"You walk like an alpha. Showy, but in a confident way, not a prissy way. Sort of like you could walk through a forest without ducking, and the branches would move out of the way."

"I- thank you?" Was it a complement? I really didn't get it, if it was, but it did make me feel a little better. She grunted, and that familiar rhythm of dog's feet took over the conversation once more.

A few minutes later, a thought struck me. She'd said dogs, but never said how many…

* * *

Twenty-two. Twenty-two dogs. If I needed brainbleach after that mental image earlier, I would have had a few gallons left over.

There were dachshunds, terriers, Labradors, a corgi, and more. All frolicking around in my radius for several minutes before we arrived. I used the time to get started on my task, taking over the surface fleas and ticks.

I'd been privy to a whole parade of headache inducing, disorienting senses when I'd gained my powers; more than half the reason I'd been in a psych ward had been because of my ravings about 'rhythms' and the crazy feelings they gave me.

Fleas were relatively harmless in that regard; they mostly told light from darkness with their tiny eyes. Ticks were a little better, which meant way worse, because I did not need an extra close-up of what a tick bite looked like to a tick. It was like a bloody chainsaw seen through a kaleidoscope. Ugh. Still, I kept it up. By the time we got there, I was running a literal flea circus in a corner of what I was quickly realizing was an abandoned, half-destroyed building.

With dismay, I noted some tapeworms; they were really hard to control, because my power just treated them like a chain of tiny, limbless creatures that couldn't dance at all. Only the head could dance, and it was understandably unpleasant to control the only part with mouthparts when it was in a small intestine. I did my best to make them let go, then tuned out their feedback for a while. Their instincts should take over when they passed into the large intestine, finish the job.

And then there was the heartworm. A squirming, blind creature, living in the chest of an unfortunate dog. I motioned Rachel towards that one. "Heartworm. I don't think I can get it."

"Fuck! Those fuckers at the pound should have checked, I just got him! I'll pound that bastard's face in!"

"How bad is it? I know they're bad, but…"

"He could die, and the surgery is no good. I need to use my power on him."

"Wait, is he trained?"

"What part of 'I just got him' did you not get?"

"Right… have you done this before?"

She shook her head, but said, "Yeah. Not like this, but yeah. We can chain him."

"Would you mind if I used my power to hold him?" I blurted it out without thinking. I'd been doing way too much of that today, and if I wasn't careful, it might get me hurt. Like right here.

Her head shot my way. My hands shot up defensively. She looked about ready to shout, but she closed her mouth. I gave her a minute; from what I'd seen, I'd just accidentally asked if I could control the equivalent of one of her children. To save them from being chained down, but still.

"Would it hurt him?"

I shook my head, saying, "No, but it might make him freak out for a minute. I'd have to do it while he's still normal."

"You think you can hold him?"

"I think so."

She thought some more.

"Do me first."

"What? But-"

"Shut up and do it. I won't let you do it to my dogs till I know what it's like."

I paused, trying to think of a problem with it beyond stupidly saying 'You trust me like that' or something. I thought it, sure, but saying it would just make her refuse outright. Finally, I nodded. "Any music preference, I guess?"

"If you do that one about letting dogs out, I'll make them attack."

"Noted." I flicked through my playlists, before deciding on Free Bird.

I offered her an earbud, and for the next few minutes, we sat there. The intro played, then the lyrics

It was a far more- intimate was the only word that came to mind- experience than I intended, just us sitting shoulder to shoulder, with me slowly taking her over. She mumbled along to the song at some points, but otherwise the only sounds in my empty ear were the growls and yelps as the dogs played.

I kept the dancing to a minimum- by the time I had her fully under control, she was rocking out to the guitar bit, but not in an on-stage, over-the-top dancing way, more like a person performing it on an imaginary acoustic. I held her there for a bit, then told her I was letting her go, and dropped the connection.

She huffed, her hands dropping back to her lap, her gaze forward, to her dogs, her expression unreadable. One hand reached up, and slowly removed the earbud, then put it back in after a moment of hesitation. We finished the song.

"Yeah. It's better than chains," was all she had to say as the final riff ended.

I nodded, and began to start on the dog.

* * *

After the heartworm was taken care of, I took my leave. I needed to get home before my dad freaked out and assumed I'd made last night's call under duress. I dropped by the loft, grabbed my costume tote and some of the stuff we'd bought, and caught a bus. One ride involving a happy drunk and his drinking song later, and I was back on my street, bags in tow.

And Dad's truck was in the driveway. Yay. I guess it was lies first, clothing and costume storage later.

"Hey Dad, I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen!"

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute!" I ran upstairs, tossing the bags into my room, then rushed back down. He was waiting at the table.

Oh. This was one of those talks.

"Hey, Taylor. How was your day?" He gestured to the chair next to him, and I looped around the table to take the seat. "Good," I said, and it struck me that, for once, I was being genuine about that. Today had been… "Amazing, actually."

"So, what happened last night?"

And the lies began. "I've been quietly searching for ways to help?" It came out as a question. Oops.

"Taylor, you didn't need to do that. You should be focusing on your schoolwork." And didn't that hit straight in the gut, for multiple reasons. I didn't want to bring up school right now. I knew I needed to stop the lies, but… no. Maybe it was the right time. If I didn't stop stacking up the lies, at some point it would all come crashing down. Best to just… get it out there.

"Dad… we need to talk about school."

"Taylor…"

"Dad, January wasn't an isolated incident. It was the culmination of a year and a half of the worst kinds of bullying you can imagine. And it didn't even make the bullies pause; they went right back to it when I got back in February. I've been hiding it, because there's nothing we can do about it. The staff has me pinned as some kind of attention-grubbing liar, the bullies have the students and staff on their side, and they have money and sports and stuff on their side too. It's a huge mess, and everything I've tried is just ignored."

"Taylor... what…"

It was just spilling out now. "And I'm doing my best regardless, I'm keeping up for the most part in my classes. Sometimes they steal assignments and stuff, but I'm still managing. Only this week they ruined my textbooks, so I needed extra money. So I found a job. I joined a g-" gang, I thought, "-game studio, and it pays really well, and it's got flexible hours, so school isn't a mmmphh-" I was cut off as he wrapped me in a hug.

It was warm. Bony, at an awkward angle, but warm. I stopped trying to talk, and just wiped my eyes on his shirt.

"My little owl."

And that set them tearing up again. My mother's nickname for me.

"I'm so proud of you. I've been an idiot, and I'm so proud of you for staying strong." He pulled away, locking eyes with me as I rubbed away tears. "But next time, try to keep me in the loop." He smiled sadly, and pulled me back in.

"Tomorrow, I'll make some calls. See if we can do anything about these bastards who think they can push you around. I'll tear the school down with a mob of Dockworkers if I have to." The edge in his voice told of his intent. I'd seen my dad angry, and he'd tear the school down himself if that's what it took.

His voice softened. "But tonight? Let's celebrate your first job. Go get some ice cream, visit the mall. Maybe go see a movie." I sniffed, nodding. That sounded nice.

"So, tell me about your newfound employment!"

The lies were still bitter, but they were far less bitter than the ones I'd been telling for months, and that was all that mattered.


	10. Fandango: Interlude 2

A/N: Sorry for the late chapter, Christmas ate my time. It does that sometimes.

* * *

Fandango: Interlude 2

Danny didn't know what to say.

"Taylor... what…"

His daughter just kept going, each word slashing deeper, tearing a hole in his world. "And I'm doing my best regardless, I'm keeping up for the most part in my classes. Sometimes they steal assignments and stuff, but I'm still managing." This was the truth; his little girl was suffering, and he'd barely noticed. His fists clenched.

"Only this week they ruined my textbooks, so I needed extra money." She hadn't come to him, and no wonder. "So I found a job. I joined a g-game studio, and it pays really well, and it's got flexible hours, so school isn't a mmmphh-" He wrapped her in a hug. It was the only response he had.

"My little owl."

It was a wish more than anything. A call back to the time when his daughter smiled and laughed, when the love of his life was alive, when the world had made sense. Asking her not to grow up, even though he knew she had. Annette's pet name, now turned into a plea for forgiveness. He pulled Taylor closer. She was crying into his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, like she did when she was little. He could even hear the faint whispers of the music from her now ever-present earbuds. He spoke, letting his thoughts out.

"I'm so proud of you. I've been an idiot, and I'm so proud of you for staying strong." He pulled away, locking eyes with Taylor as she rubbed away tears. "But next time, try to keep me in the loop." He gave her a small smile, then pulled her in so she couldn't see him tearing up too.

His daughter was growing up, and he'd been left behind. He'd left her behind a long time ago, actually. No more. He was a father, damn it, and if he couldn't help his daughter when it mattered, he didn't deserve to call himself a man.

"Tomorrow, I'll make some calls. See if we can do anything about these bastards who think they can push you around. I'll tear the school down with a mob of Dockworkers if I have to." They would do it, if he told them; pull their kids out of school, form a mob, the works. He wouldn't even have to ask; they were almost family, and they'd done more for less. But first, he'd make those calls.

No, he thought. First, he'd spend time with the girl in his arms. Later, he'd fight. "But tonight? Let's celebrate your first job. Go get some ice cream, visit the mall. Maybe go see a movie."

She nodded. He smiled, and did his best to put his anger on the back burner. For now.

"So, tell me about your newfound employment!"

She sniffed, and pulled out of the hug.

"Um… I'm working for a company called Deep Facet. They make rhythm games, and needed testers. I'm going in, playing video games, noting every problem I see, and so on."

He nodded, thinking about it. "So, what benefits do you have? And what are the hours like?"

She looked down, embarrassed. "Benefits? Right… Well, they have a great health plan. Hours are flexible, it's more about making a quota. Pay is… well, 'generous' is putting it lightly."

"What does that mean?"

"Two thousand a month, after taxes. Plus huge bonuses for… big finds."

His jaw dropped. Two thousand? His daughter was going to make more than him before she even hit sixteen. "How is that even legal?"

She jerked, and sputtered, "Of course it's legal! What do you mean?"

"Nothing, just that I'm now the supplementary income of the house," he grumbled, shaking his head and smiling. "Your old man barely makes two thirds what you do."

She frowned. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, really, it's fine. I just didn't expect to be… out-earned again. That's really great!" She was still frowning, so he quickly changed the subject. "So, what do you want to do, to celebrate?"

"Hmmm… well, we could go somewhere nice for dinner… any ideas?"

"How about… Guillermo's?"

Her eyes widened. "You mean Gino's, right? Not the ridiculously fancy place on the boardwalk?

He smiled. "Nope. Ridiculously fancy sounds like a proper celebration dinner."

"Dad…"

"No buts. We're going to go out and enjoy ourselves tonight!" He stood up, and she reluctantly followed. "Dinner and a movie. Tomorrow, we're gonna get to the bottom of this bullying situation, but for tonight, we're going to have fun. Now, go get ready. We'll leave at 4:30."

"Okay…"

He headed upstairs, and she followed behind as far as her room. He headed to his room, picked out a nice set of clothes, and laid them on the bed, and picked up the phone. The other calls could wait till tomorrow, but there was one call he would make tonight. He dialed the familiar number, and put the phone to his ear. A few rings later, it picked up.

"Danny? It's good to hear from you! How have you been?"

"I've had some ups and downs, Alan. The DWU is always facing some crisis, but I'm holding it together. How's work?"

"Pretty good. Always someone who wants joint custody of a dog or something, but otherwise it's been fairly normal. God, it must be, what, two years since we last talked? We should catch up sometime. My treat."

He laughed. "I'll have to take you up on that sometime. Unfortunately, tonight's call is mostly business."

"What's the problem? Don't tell me you got married?"

"No, no. I'm looking for some legal help, maybe a referral. Did you hear about the incident in January?"

"No?"

"I'm not sure how, it was in the news. Anyways, long story short, I've just found out that some pretty vicious bullies that put Taylor in the hospital in January are still getting away with things, and the staff aren't raising a finger to stop it."

Alan's voice hardened. "That sounds like criminal negligence, at least, and a lot of it. I think I'll clear my schedule for tomorrow afternoon, and you can fill me in on what you know."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Alan. Tell Zoe I said hi."

"Will do. Thanks for calling, I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up. Danny finished getting dressed, and headed downstairs.

* * *

Guillermo's was, if anything, even more of a high-class, high-cost establishment than he remembered. The only reason they even got a table was because it was a Wednesday afternoon, and even then, the place was almost full.

After mentally double-taking at the prices, he ordered the shrimp scampi, and Taylor got chicken alfredo al pesto. They slowly sipped their drinks, searching for something to talk about.

"So, what're you listening to? Anything good?" Ever since the hospital, she'd scarcely gone a minute without some form of music. The psychiatrist at the mental ward hypothesized that it was a coping mechanism; dealing with stress by listening to music was very common, and it wasn't like it did any harm.

"I'm on a bit of a classic rock kick right now. Some Queen, some ACDC, other big names."

"Really? I used to listen to that stuff when it was new!"

She put a hand to her face in exasperation, and sighed. "That, right there, is a perfect example of being a dad. Now, every time I listen to one of their songs, all I'll think is that my dad is so old he was my age when it came out."

"Yup. Then your next thought will be that that doesn't matter, because that stuff is just too good for me to ruin with my old age."

"True. Very true."

They lapsed back into silence. He glanced around, searching for something to say, and finding little that wasn't stepping into delicate territory. When did it get so hard to just talk to her?

He knew the answer a moment later; it was when he'd wallowed in grief after Annette. Failed to take care of the most important thing she'd left behind. Nothing new, just another thing he hadn't noticed until January, and been unable to confront until now.

"… for you?" He roused out of his depressing self-reflection, and turned back to Taylor. "Huh? Sorry, I spaced out."

She smiled. "I said, how's work going for you?"

"Oh, right. Well, the Merchants were making some trouble yesterday. At least, we think it was them. Could just be a bunch of drugged-out meth-heads, you know how it is. Anyway…" he regaled her with tales of his day-to-day, and she pretended to be interested like a good daughter should. She laughed at all the silly moments, frowned and showed empathy when he failed to get someone a job.

Their food came, and they both enjoyed it while they talked. He ignored the looks they got when a particularly dirty joke got aired in full; it was worth it for the embarrassed smile it got from Taylor. They were a father and daughter. Eventually, he paid the bill, and they walked to the theater. Taylor took over on the walk, giving funny tales of internet videos and music lyrics, talking wistfully about maybe learning to play violin, even sharing an earbud so he could listen to a song she was trying to compose.

They settled on an action movie that just got in from Aleph, and thoroughly enjoyed commenting on the ridiculously contrived plot that served as little more than a reason to have a bunch of old action movie stars together for one film. The movie itself was boring and bland, but Danny did enjoy the time he spent with his daughter. All too soon, though, the movie was over and yawns were coming in, so they headed home.

* * *

"Hey, Danny, over here!"

Danny swung his head in the direction of the voice, walking to the back of the coffee shop. Alan had taken a nice, private booth. Good. He slid into the seat, and Alan passed him a cup.

"You're still a coffee man, right?"

"Yeah, try as Taylor might to convert me to tea." He took a sip, savoring the flavor of the concoction. "Normally take it black, but I could use something a bit less bitter today. It's been a long one."

"Tell me about it? Before we get down to business?"

"Well, all day I've been calling up old contacts, people who owe me favors, that sort of thing. Prepping for war. From how Taylor's hinted at their reactions, they're willfully allowing some ridiculous stuff to go on in Winslow. If even half the stuff she says is true, we should have pushed to transfer our daughters out years ago."

"Really? Emma barely talks about school. Then again, she's been really into her modeling, and Sophia… well, I suppose she's just as uncomfortable talking about it as Taylor. Speaking of which… you mentioned an incident in January?"

"Right. January." He paused. Where to even start? He looked at his friend, considering. Alan took care of Taylor when he hadn't. It was only right that he hear the details.

"Well, for me, it started right around Christmas. I'd been fairly depressed, because it was the second Christmas without Annette, but even with that, I could tell Taylor was hurting. I- Alan, I knew she was hurting, and I just went to bed. I left her alone, because even after two years, I couldn't step up and care for my little girl!"

"Danny…"

"No, I'm sorry. This is gonna be hard. I've just been realizing how bad of a father I've been for a long time, and this latest revelation is a wake-up-call on that front." He took a deep breath. "Okay. So, I was a terrible father during late December. Completely missed the apprehension at the idea of going back to Winslow, missed all the signs, or rationalized them away."

"And her first day back, they beat her so bad she went to the hospital?"

He leveled a look at Alan, meeting his eyes. "They broke my baby girl, Alan." He paused, collected himself. "They- they shoved her in a __locker.__ A locker full of rancid, rotting, bloody pads and tampons. Put her mother's flute in it. Put sharp things in it. Probably shit and pissed in it, too. And then, they left her there to __die."__

"Oh my god…"

"She barely survived. Massive systemic infections, severe blood loss, and she flatlined once on the way to the ER. She went insane for the better part of the month, had to be kept in a mental ward. Clung to the ruins of Annette's flute for two weeks. Probably has PTSD for the rest of her life." He clenched his fist, resting it on the table. Alan looked a little green.

"When I found out yesterday, that the bastards at the school, the ones who swore it was an isolated incident, the ones that told me they'd keep an eye out for her, are just letting it happen, and have been for two years?" His fingers were digging into his palms, but he didn't care. The pain helped him hold in his rage. "The only reason I didn't try to kill someone last night was because I had Taylor's first job to celebrate."

"That is… how could they? That kind of negligence... the vicious assault alone… how are they not in jail already?"

"Lack of evidence," he said with disgust. "Taylor was too busy being horrified at the contents of her locker to look at who pushed her, too busy screaming to identify their voices beyond reasonable doubt. The school settled with an offer to pay hospital bills, and I didn't have the money or time to do anything but accept."

"That will make it harder to prosecute, but I understand. God, I fell out of touch at the worst time. I had things going on, but I still should have tried." He looked around suddenly, then turned back to Danny. "Where's Taylor now?"

Danny unclenched his fists and made a placating gesture. "Don't worry. I've excused her from school for the next week. She's using the time to do some work for her new job, which, incidentally, is how we plan to pay for the legal side of things." Well, at least some of it. Two thousand a month was good, but he wasn't using more than half that on legal. If that ran out, he'd rather dip into his meager savings account than deprive his daughter of the fruits of her labor.

"Danny, you're bleeding!"

"Shit." His palms had a cut or two where his fingers had dug in too deep. "Pass me a napkin?"

"You don't want to go to the hospital?"

"No, this is nothing," he said, dabbing at the gashes with the napkin. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so… anyway, I'll have to see if anyone else in the office wants to take this one. I'll do it if nobody else does, but I'd much rather have someone who pursues criminal cases do it, so it gets done right, you know? I'll get back to you in the next day or two." He clapped a hand onto Danny's forearm. "We'll do whatever we can to help."

"Thanks, Alan. It's good to have you back."

"Same to you. Now tell me, other than this mess, how has life been treating you?"

Danny smiled, and started filling his friend in on the past two years. Alan was rusty on some of the politics, but he was happy to learn. They talked for a good hour or two, and set up a date to have a meal at Alan's house next week. Danny left the shop in a much better mood than he'd entered.

Together, they would make those bastards pay.


	11. Tango 2-1

A/N: Before we begin, I have a bit of explaining I want to do.

So, for those of you that didn't see the Spacebattles post or Shangri-La Author's Note a few weeks ago: My computer died, then revived with some brain damage; my own brain refused to continue writing at the weekly pace; I had too many story ideas, so I'm gonna release a third fanfic soonish; and to top it all off, I'm still worldbuilding for an original, expansive fantasy novel/series I plan to write, because writing might be my best shot at a normal job.

What this means: For the foreseeable future, I'll be focusing more on quality over quantity, and updating irregularly. Chapters should be bigger and more detailed, but I can't promise anything more than one or two a month. I don't like the change, but it's better than the slow burnout I was starting to have following a weekly schedule, and it lets me write what I want more. I will not abandon Tarantism, though: I have every intention to see this story to it's end.

Enough talking, though. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Tango 2.1

I was really getting tired of playing hooky.

It wasn't like I wanted to go to school; Emma and her pack of followers made it so I couldn't even enjoy the learning side of things, let alone the social stuff. I couldn't even be a successful student, and I was honestly starting to lose interest in trying. No, it wasn't a desire to be at school that made me want to stop skipping.

I was just getting tired of the look bus drivers gave me when I wasn't in school.

"Are you sure you have the right bus, miss?"

I nodded, stepping out of the light rain and adjusting my bag. "I'm sure." I swiped my pass, and made my way to a seat.

Dad had cornered me after my run yesterday morning. Told me he was going to seek legal help, that he'd pulled me out of school for the week. I'd groaned internally, of course; he had no idea that I'd basically not attended Tuesday, and missed half the day before that. And that was just this week. I tried to tell him that I was fine, but he insisted.

After I realized the futility of my argument, I'd pretty much just gone to the library and finished the Maggie Holt book. Not the best use of my time, but one that had certainly kept me from caring about my doomed GPA. But today? I couldn't think of anything. Except the one, obvious option.

So here I was, riding a bus to my new 'job'. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.

But first? I figured an offering was in order.

* * *

"Hey, I brought donuts!" I yelled up as I climbed the spiral staircase. If I was guessing right by body size, Alec and Brian were the only ones here. This was quickly confirmed as I reached the top of the stairs. Yup; one skinny couch potato, and one… incredibly buff shirtless guy.

Be cool, Taylor.

"I am so glad you joined us," Alec said, drawing my attention. "Dance fights and donuts; the true benefits of villainy."

"Wouldn't that be money and freedom?" I asked, walking across the loft to set the donuts on the counter, then stripping off my rain-dampened hooded sweatshirt. Brian noticed me and stopped doing popsquats.

Alec got up, replying easily, "Well, yeah, but it's what you get to use those perks on. Delicious things and crazy parties."

Brian walked over, now wearing a gray tank top that fit like a glove. "Hey, Taylor. I thought you had school today?" He looked down to the counter, raising an eyebrow. "Donuts?"

"Yeah. My dad took me out of school for the week. As for the donuts, I didn't get breakfast, was headed this way, and figured it might be a good idea." It was a small lie; I had actually eaten breakfast. The donuts were a tension breaker, but they didn't need to know that.

"Well, thanks, I guess." He took one, while Alec fetched a paper plate and piled a few on it. I took one myself. For a minute or two, Brian and I just leaned against the counters and enjoyed our sugar-glazed confections, while Alec headed back to the couches.

"You know, I actually haven't had a donut in a while," Brian said.

"Really? Neither have I." Great, a donut conversation. I guess that's what I get for manipulating people with them.

"Yeah. My dad didn't like sweet stuff."

"Hmm." God, I had nothing interesting to say. "Your dad?"

Contrary to my expectations, he just said, "Yeah." The word was laden with context. Rough topic, I guess. I was just not good at conversation. I tried again.

"So, what are you up to today?"

"Oh, I'm just doing some training," he replied, "part workout, part practice." He glanced at the box. "Which means I should probably not have another donut."

I nodded, smiling slightly. "I doubt it would hurt, but you're probably right."

He gestured over his shoulder. "You want to join me? Never hurts to know how to fight."

"Um… sure? I've got nothing better to do, I guess." He did have a point. I might be pretty fit, but I had no idea how to fight.

We made our way over to the area behind the couches, near the punching bag. He continued talking as we walked.

"Do you do anything for exercise?"

"Yeah, I started running a few months back. Figured it might be a nice idea, since I wanted to be a cape."

"That's good. I wish the rest of the team would think like that. Building endurance is really important for the whole cape scene, even if we do have ways to get away faster. You would not believe how hard it is to get Alec to do a push-up. So, have you ever done any fighting?"

I thought of several incidents where Sophia has gotten physical. "Not really. None that I've won, that's for sure."

"That's fine, I'm not exactly an expert or anything. I mostly just pick up stuff that's useful in a fight, you know? A little bit of everything." He shrugged, then motioned to me. "Okay, put your fists up." I did my best impression of a boxing pose. "Let's see. You're too stiff, and you need to protect your core more. Try to loosen up a bit." After watching my attempt at relaxing, he demonstrated it himself. "See how I keep my hands up, but don't tense my muscles?" I nodded, and did my best to mimic him. "Much better. Okay, I'll teach you some basics, then we can do a few basic sparring matches, if you want."

"Sure." I'd probably lose, but hey, gotta learn somehow.

He spent the next few minutes explaining some of the little details I'd need to know in a fight. Tricks to knock people off balance, a hold or two, how to punch and kick. I did my best to remember everything I could. The contact was pretty distracting, but I managed.

"Okay, let's do some sparring. I'll go easy on you, but don't let that stop you. I can take a hit. No face shots, and try not to break bones or bruise too hard, alright?" I nodded and got ready, but he gestured to his ears. I was confused for a moment, and he clarified. "You should probably take out your earbuds. They could get in the way."

 _Oohh… Let's go!_

Cut off my music, when 'Another One Bites the Dust' just started? No way. "I'll be fine," I replied. "I always have them in."

 _Steve walks warily down the street, brim pulled way down low. Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet, machine guns ready to go._

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." He took his stance. "Go when ready, I guess."

 _Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?_

I waited a bit, moving around him, looking for a good opening.

 _Out of the doorway the bullets rip, to the sound of the beat, yeah._

I threw a jab, and he deflected it.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

I backed off, and he countered. A hook from his right.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

I dodged, but he turned the swing into a throw. I hit the padded mat.

 _And another one gone, and another one gone…_

I got back up. I couldn't afford to be that bad. He'd barely taken ten seconds to deck me. "Again."

 _…Another one bites the dust!_

"Alright. Try to be more aware of your opponent this time."

 _Hey, he's gonna get you too! Another one bites the dust!_

I nodded, focusing more on my senses of him. Feeling the rhythm of breathing and heartbeat, making sure to watch his arms tense and flex as he readied himself. "Alright, let's try again."

The music built up for the second verse. This time, he was the one to act first. A test strike, easily dodged.

 _How do you think I'm gonna get along, without you when you're gone?_

I threw a feint, then grabbed his arm when he struck back, trying to throw him off balance.

 _You took me for everything that I had, and kicked me out on my own!_

He shook me off, then we circled again. "Good try, but I'm heavier, so throws are hard. You've gotta use my weight against me."

 _Are you happy? Are you satisfied? How long can you stand the heat?_

Use my opponent's weight to my advantage? I could do that.

 _Out of the doorway, the bullets rip! To the sound of the beat! Look out!_

I punched at him, and he ducked.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

I followed with a low kick, but felt, too late, the sweep that took that leg out from under me.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

I sprawled, but recovered. He was moving in, though. Perfect.

 _And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust!_

I returned the sweep, knocking him flat on his butt.

 _Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust!_

I reached out a hand to help him up. Once he was on his feet, he said, "We'll count that one as a win for you, I guess. Let's go again?"

 _Another one bites the dust…_

"Sure." The song still had a bit to go, and I wasn't too sore yet, so why not?

 _…Another one bites the dust, ow! Another one bites the dust, hey hey. Another one bites the dust, heey…_

We got ready, standing off.

 _Ooohh, shaah!_

He clenched and unclenched his fists, and I adjusted my feet.

 _There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man, and bring him to the ground!_

I started this time, swinging in time to the beats. He dodged back, but couldn't retaliate.

 _You can beat him, you can cheat him, you can treat him badly, and leave him when he's down!_

Each point made by the song was punctuated by a strike against his guard.

 _Are you ready? It's ready for you, I'm standing on my own two feet! Out of the doorway, the bullets rip, repeating to the sound of the beat!_

I backed off, giving him space. He moved forward, smiling at the exertion, and I grinned too.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

He jabbed, and I took a hit to the left shoulder, probably leaving a light bruise.

 _Another one bites the dust…_

Another jab, but this time the hit was glancing off my right arm as I tried to dodge. My earbud cord swung wildly at the movement, as did my hair.

 _And another one gone, and another one gone…_

He was firing more shots, but I could see them coming in his body language. I ducked one, and got in close.

 _Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust!_

I delivered a punch squarely to his stomach, and he doubled over. I backed off. Shit, I didn't mean to hurt him too badly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, straightening up, "I'm fine. I think that's enough for now, though.

I was skeptical, and the hand on his stomach didn't help. "You sure? That looked like it hurt."

He waved it off. "It's fine. Gut shots hurt, but I'm used to them. We'll spar more another day, I just need a break." He smiled thinly. "You're a fast learner, that's for sure. Good job."

"Thanks, I guess. Just good timing." I shrugged, and he turned away, which I took as my cue to go.

"Sure," he mumbled sarcastically as he walked away, "good timing."

I made my way to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get the sweat off. I didn't have any spare clothes, but hopefully the ones I had on wouldn't be too bad. Brushing my hair with my fingers, I walked out of the bathroom.

What to do now?

Well, Alec was here. Maybe us human-controllers could bond or something.

I went to the kitchenette, grabbed the box of donuts, and made my way over to the couches, where Alec was playing some game. I sat quietly a minute, eating another sugary pastry, then leaned over and offered the box to him.

"Thanks," he said, taking the box with his good arm. He set it down beside him and went back to the game.

I leaned back into the couch, watching him play a bit. It was an arena fighter, and once I puzzled out the displays, it was pretty entertaining. Alec was playing as Chevalier, and fighting his way through the probably-fictional villains one by one, facing off against such memorable names as "Doctor Sinister" and "The Dark Lady". A short string of curses led up to his defeat against "Victorious", the main bosses' lieutenant or something. Slumping, he grabbed a donut and stuffed it in his mouth, then waved at the floor.

"What?" I asked, when he gestured again.

He took the donut out of his mouth. "Grab a controller." He put it back.

I did so hesitantly. I wasn't exactly experienced with games. They were fun to watch, but I never really had a way to play them. Ironic, considering my new 'job'.

Alec picked Versus mode, and a city streets arena. The character selection screen came up.

He glanced my way. "You ever play before?"

"No," I replied.

"Go with Legend. Simple combat, great mobility, tons of health."

I scrolled over to the Protectorate leader and selected him. "How do you play?"

"Basic controls are Y for heavy attacks, Z for normal, W and X for specials and grabs, and the sticks do movement. Figure the rest out on your own, you'll get it pretty quick."

I studied the controller, barely noting as he picked Chevalier again. I spent a few moments familiarizing myself with the positions of the buttons, adjusting my grip. Alec started the match, and we were off.

I got my ass handed to me. Despite Legend's flight and ranged attacks, my inexperience and button-mashing were no match for his experience and combo usage, using Chevalier's massive cannonblade to swat me out of the sky. We did a rematch, and I lost again, having been unable to dodge thanks to the limited stage size. A third match went no better. It took four matches before I got lucky, found a cheap shot, and exploited it to victory.

He responded by beating me without taking a hit. We decided to both try new characters after that. It was obvious he would keep winning if this continued.

"So," I said, picking Mouse Protector after some deliberation, "how are your ribs?"

"Really? That's the best conversation you've got?" He picked one of the villain characters, 'Malefax', who was apparently the evil lord of edginess if his name was anything to go by. Our characters began their intros on the megamall stage. "They're fine. Probably gonna switch to a wrap instead of the sling tomorrow."

"That's good," I said, doing a dash attack to start it off. "Glad to hear it's healing."

He fired off a wave of dark energy, and I teleported out of the way. "Hey, I've got it better than Tats. Broken arms are a bitch, and burns suck too."

I slashed at him, then blocked another blast with my shield. "Yeah. Wish we had a healer, or something."

He snickered, unleashing a brutal combo. "What are we gonna do, recruit Panacea?"

I retaliated, smacking his character between two teleport markers. "Good point. I don't want to be on New Wave's bad side."

"You might be a bit late for that, yeah? Being a villain and all?" He broke the combo, but there was hope; he only had a tiny bit of health left. I just had to stay alive.

"Maybe," I said, dodging several blasts. "That kind of sucks, actually. I always wanted to be a hero." I managed to get a slash in, taking his darkness-oozing edgelord down to a sliver of health. "Until, well, I realized how screwed I would be." I didn't say the obvious: either I'd have to never use my power on my opponents, being stuck using bugs and rats for everything, or get caught and go to jail if I ever accidentally screwed up. Alec had taken the former path, and I respected him for it, but if I was going to be a cape, I would be doing it on my terms, not the system's.

Alec got me with another blast, and I realized I might be in trouble, so I let the conversation drop. He was still at a sliver of health, but had started playing very offensively, forcing me to back off. I was in the red myself, now, and couldn't land a hit. I slashed, and he dodged backward, then leaped to the left, knocking a seller's stand in my direction. It caught me before I could teleport again, and I watched helplessly as he finished me off with a blast of darkness before I recovered.

"Well, Miss Antihero, I hope you like it here," he said, grabbing the last donut as the victory cutscene played. "You're one of us now." He stuffed the donut in his mouth, and hit rematch.

I pondered his words a moment, then shrugged. He was right: one way or another, I was part of something now. I had friends, money, and things were looking up on my normal life too. Becoming a villain was probably the most positive change to my life in years.

I just hoped I wouldn't regret it.


	12. Tango 2-2

A/N: I am not a lawyer, and have never sought legal help for anything. Unfortunately, it's very hard to research such a private kind of meeting, so after a week of futile research, I gave up and winged it. Feel free to let me know if there's anything major I need to change in the chapter.

Tango 2.2

I got home around 6, thankful for the end of the past three days' rainfall. Dad was sitting on the couch as I walked in the door, and upon hearing the door open, he called out, "Hey, Taylor, come here a minute."

I walked into the room, setting down my hoodie. "Yeah, Dad?"

"How was your day?" he asked, turning down the television, even though it hadn't been intrusive.

"Good. Had fun, played games, you know." It wasn't a lie, just vague. My shoulder would be sore for a day or two, though, so I'd have to be careful not to favor it. "How about yours?"

"Good, good. The DWU finally got a decent bit of luck, a few warehouse stocking jobs at once. Also, I got some good news, which is what I wanted to talk about. I got a call today, and it looks like we have a lawyer who is willing to hear our case against Winslow, and will accept suing for damages instead of pay."

"That's nice," I said, ignoring the knot of disbelief in my gut. "What do I need to do?" What would go wrong here? Besides Emma's dad being a lawyer, that is. Corrupt cops? Destroyed evidence? An inept lawyer?

"She said to bring any and all information you have on the bullying. I can let you use my computer to write up some stuff, if you need it, but-"

"Be right back." I rushed upstairs, digging the familiar pile of paper out of my closet. After some hesitation, I dug out a particular shoebox as well, grabbed my stained backpack, and dug the ruined clothing from Monday out of the wastebasket. I would wait for the other shoe to drop, but until then, I was gonna use every bit of evidence I had.

Carefully making my way downstairs while laden down with stuff, I walked into the living room.

"Taylor, what is all that?"

"This," I said, dumping the clothing and laying out the other items, "Is my evidence." I pointed at the items in order. "Clothes from Monday, permanently stained. Backpack damage from the same prank." I hesitated, but went on. "The papers are day by day accounts of my bullying since September, because I only started recording it this school year. There's also a list of vicious emails there too. Lastly, that," I said, pointing at the shoebox, "is Mom's flute. What's left of it, anyway."

He knew what I meant by that; not just literal damage, but a reminder of what we'd lost. I'd spent the first four days in the hospital holding a death grip around it, so we'd both seen it plenty. He didn't open the box.

"Taylor…" he said, staring at the pile of paper, "I can't believe you went through all this without telling me." He reached out to take the top page, the first day of school, but paused. "No. I'll wait till tomorrow to hear it. If I read it now, I'll never sleep."

I nodded. "That's okay, Dad." I knew what he meant. Rereading it still hurt me. Best to wait. "How about we put this in the truck, then make something for dinner."

He stood, grabbing at his pockets, and digging out his keys. "That sounds like a plan."

The next day, we spent the morning waiting. Dad didn't go to work, and I didn't go to 'Deep Facet', but neither of us had anything to talk about. We sat and tried to watch TV, but failed miserably; constantly switching past cartoons we weren't interested in, sports we didn't follow, talk shows we could care less about, and movies that we'd already seen. Toes tapped, seat positions changed, and I couldn't seem to find music I wanted to listen to. Some was too energetic, some too emotional and dark, some just not what I needed.

Finally, two o'clock came around, and Dad and I piled into the pickup. We'd be early, but it was better than waiting at home. The drive was dominated by the radio, tapping on the steering wheel, and the various other sounds of my dad's old but dependable pickup truck.

We pulled into the lot and made our way inside. I nervously stared at the box of evidence we'd brought as we walked, shifting my grip. My palms were sweaty, and I couldn't afford to drop it. My list would be disorganized and useless; the evidence would be tampered with, they wouldn't take it in court. I tightened my grip on the cardboard, indenting it slightly as we sat down in the diminutive waiting room.

A few minutes later, a blonde woman in business attire came around the corner. "Mister Hebert?" she asked. I stood up quickly, but fell in step behind my dad as he took her hand. "Good to meet you, Miss Dallon. Thank you for the help."

Dallon? Why did the name sound familiar? I wracked my brain as we walked to her office, and nearly dropped the box when I remembered. The Dallon family were members of New Wave. She's a hero, and I'm a villain.

Great. Legal help never felt so life-threatening, and I hadn't even sat down with her yet.

She opened the door to her office, and held it for us. "Set the box over by the wall. Can I get you two anything before we start? Soda, water, coffee?"

"Tea?" I asked hopefully, "Or water, if you don't have it." I needed something. This wouldn't be easy for a lot of reasons, the least of which was the fact that my lawyer wouldn't hesitate to arrest me if she knew what I was.

"I'll see what we have," she said with a smile, and with that, she was gone for the moment. I realized how tense I was, and relaxed a bit.

"Nervous?" my dad asked, a look of worry on his face.

"You have no idea," I replied with a sigh.

I pulled out my 'glorified flash drive', and decided some classical music would be nice right about now, switching on the local college's classical/jazz radio.

 _"… listening to Classical 90.5. Up next, we have a treat: Lacrimosa, from Mozart's Requiem in D minor. This piece…"_

Carol returned, bearing gifts. "Your tea, and I got you a water, Mr. Hebert." She sat down at her desk, got out a tape recorder, and set it aside on the oaken surface for the time being. "Okay, before we begin, I'd like to clarify a few things.

"This is currently a session of free legal counsel. I've invited you here to help you understand the options you have open to you, and am under no obligation or contract to offer my services beyond this point. That said, as this is legal counsel, this is a confidential meeting; the only people who hear about anything you say in this room are myself and whoever you, as the clients, wish to inform."

I decoded the legalese as best I could while the actual music started, and nodded when she asked if we understood.

"Okay then, with that out of the way… why don't you fill me in on the events leading up to this meeting? I have my colleague's account, but that was secondhand."

Dad spoke first. "Well, I wasn't made aware of the extent of the bullying until a few days ago. I think Taylor thought that I might not take it well if I knew. Taylor, would you like to fill us in?"

I froze. Where the fuck do I even start? "Um… well, I guess it all started two years ago, with Emma."

"Emma?" my dad said with a look of confusion. "Emma Barnes? What does she have to do with this?"

"Everything," I said with venom. "She's the one in charge of the bi- bullies."

"…What?!"

"If I may interrupt? You said 'Barnes', correct? As in Alan Barnes' daughter?" I nodded. "Well, that complicates things."

"You're damn right that that complicates things," my dad growled. "What is this, a joke? He meets me, I ask him a favor, and the whole time he's laughing because his daughter is harming mine? Then he sets us up with you so he can hear all about it, right?" He stood up, and I followed, and the music swelled with me. He'd met a lawyer, one who happened to be a member of New Wave, through Emma's dad? Had someone figured out that I had powers, connected me to Lung?

Outside, wings rustled, tails shivered in anticipation of a fight, and insects skittered through the walls looking for weak points. I wouldn't go down like this.

"Please sit down. I assure you, I had no knowledge of his involvement."

"As if we should believe that," I said angrily, the music calming down slightly in the background.

"Either sit down, or stop wasting my time and leave," she said flatly. "I'm sure you'll find legal help elsewhere, and have no trouble at all suing a lawyer's child with them. I'll abstain from the case, having consulted for the other party, but he'll still have my other associates behind him. So, either walk out, and pay someone else to represent you, or sit down, explain the situation, and take advantage of the legal help I'm offering you."

After a moment, we sat down again.

"Okay, now, you were telling me about Miss Barnes?"

"Right," I said, still angry, "Emma."

Filling them in on the events of that summer, and the following year that I hadn't documented, took the better part of twenty minutes. Carol stayed quiet throughout, no doubt not wanting to risk another interruption. Dad had to borrow a stress ball to keep himself from hurting his palms. As for me? I retreated into my troupe for the worst parts. The time I'd had to cut my hair to neck length to get tape out of it, the time I'd found crushed rotten eggs in my locker last April, the first inrush of hateful emails that made me change accounts; everything I could remember from the first year. After that, I dug out the pile of papers from the box of evidence.

"Finally, this year I started writing day-by-day accounts of their campaign, and began printing off copies of all the emails I got."

"May I see?"

I passed her the stack, and she began leafing through it, carefully placing sheets aside in an orderly manner.

"This is well-documented. Much of it is unproveable, I'll admit, but if even a tenth of this stack could be corroborated, we might actually have a case." She looked back up at me. "Do you mind if I photocopy these, so I can read through them on my own time? You can keep the originals, of course."

"Sure," I replied with a small frown. I'd expected up to go through them all today, but I supposed I should take it as a good sign that she wanted to read them later.

"Excuse me a minute, then. Go ahead and get out the other evidence you brought, if you would." She left the room, and I dug out the various items. Dad pulled out a few items himself, from a folder he'd added to the box this morning. A few minutes later, she came back, sat down, and looked to the shoebox, the folder, and the pile of stained clothing. She turned back on the recorder.

"Okay, chronological order please, with dates."

Right for the big one, then. I opened the shoebox, and carefully, so as not to cut my hands, removed the twisted piece of metal. It was clean, but I could still imagine the raw stench of its former resting places wafted around it.

"This was my mother's flute. On October 20th last year, I took it to school with me, for a bit of support. My mom… she was the best thing in our lives, and it tore us apart when she died, so I just wanted to hold onto this one memory." Carol nodded knowingly.

"I don't know how they got into my locker: I'd changed combinations just the week before; but they did, and they stole the flute. I searched all over school, and eventually found it… torn up like this, and smeared with garbage and rotting food, in a dumpster behind the kitchens. I- I couldn't just leave it there, it was the only thing I had left of my mom. So I went to get a bag, but t was gone when I came back. I broke down right there and cried, next to a stinking dumpster, and spent the next few days of school begging them to give it back."

"Did you actually see any of them handling the flute?"

"No…"

"Well, that makes it harder to make the charge stick, unfortunately. How did you get the flute back?"

I froze up at the blunt question, my response about the charges dying on my lips.

A hand found mine; my dad. "It's okay, Taylor. Take it slow."

I breathed in, out. Let myself calm down, focusing on making a single rat do a passable waltz as I dealt with my emotions. Memories of terror, rage, pain, and blood were all set aside, leaving only the music and my thoughts. Finally, I opened my eyes, took in a deep breath, and began to, in detail, describe the events leading up to the worst day of my life.

The lull; the flute in the locker; the fear and anger, the horrible sensations of rotted, bloody cotton. No detail was too small, no moment left unmentioned.

I wasn't doing this to get back at them. It wasn't about the trauma. Not about the injustice, or the pain, or the destruction of property. It wasn't even about the powers I'd had forced upon me.

Emma had committed a betrayal of the highest order, and she would receive judgement for it.

We went over every little facet of my injuries; the infections, the delirium, the diagnosis of PTSD. The month of rehab and counseling in an inpatient mental hospital, where I discovered my coping mechanism of music (and my powers, but I wasn't going to admit that). Dad's file turned out to be police reports, hospital bills that the school refused to cover despite their settlement, and the medical reports that corroborated my story.

Finally, my words failed me; there was nothing left to say. We'd spent twenty minutes on an entire year of bullying: we'd spent nearly forty more on just the locker.

Carol, however, seemed unfazed by either the time or the content. When I finished, she said, "Well, Miss Hebert, you have had quite the ordeal. My sympathies." She gave us a small, sad smile. "Trust me when I say that I understand how horrible people can be."

I nodded my thanks at the paltry, but well-meant comment. _She's a cape too,_ I reminded myself, _she's not lying._

"I assume the other evidence you've brought is documented in your list? If so, we can move on to legal options."

"Yes, it should be."

"Good. Let me go fetch those now, before I forget. Would you like another tea?"

I looked to the bottle, surprised to find it empty. "Yes, I would, thank you," I replied sheepishly. She nodded and left.

I let the calm flow away. The therapist had said that it wasn't healthy to ignore your emotions, so I tried to stay in my own head when I could. That was the longest I'd done that since… well, since the hospital.

"That was easily the most difficult conversation I've ever had," I said, sighing in relief, "I'm glad it's over."

"Trust me," Dad replied, "It wasn't easy for me, either, and I just sat here. You did good, kiddo."

"Thanks, Dad," I said with a weak smile.

Carol returned once more, toting two stacks of papers and a bottle of tea. One of these items went to her desk, the other two went to my lap.

"Sorry for the interruption," she said as she sat down. "Best not to leave testimony in a place the potential defendant could see it. Speaking of which, let's talk legal options.

"So, first and foremost, I am interested in this case. Miss Hebert, you seem like a fine young woman, and your story is heartbreaking. These kinds of abuses should never go unpunished, and if you do decide you want me to be your legal representation, I will fight this on every avenue of attack I can to see that justice is served. There are, however, some issues I need to point out.

"First: Alan Barnes, father of one of the defendants of the supposed suit, is a member of this firm. Luckily, he's an expert on marital disputes, while I take all forms of civil and criminal cases, which means I'm more used to this kind of case than him. Unfortunately, though, in order to take the case without putting my position in the firm in jeopardy, I need permission from the other partners, which means sharing some of the information you've given me."

"Go ahead," I said. "Whatever you need."

"Thank you. I believe we have enough to convince them of the merit of the case as it stands. Which ties in nicely to the second problem; you don't have enough evidence. I could make a few minor charges stick, but the list and printed emails are not enough without evidence to back them up. This means I need to hire a private investigator, which means more expenses, which means I could no longer sue solely for damages without taking an unconscionable amount."

"We aren't suing because we want money," Dad said with a wave. "You can have as large a percentage as you need- within reason, of course," he added after a moment.

"I might be able to offer some money towards a P.I., myself, if you need it." I certainly had little else to do with my money right now.

"Good. On to the third problem: The story you've shared supports several separate cases, some criminal, some civil. We're going to have to put a lot of work into something so large, and in the meantime, your daughter will need to go to some form of school. Pulling her out was the right decision, but there's only so long she can be gone without being declared truant. I suggest either transferring to Arcadia, or taking an online course and working toward a GED. I'll leave that up to you.

"So, with all this in mind, and keeping in mind that I need to negotiate terms of payment before I fully take the case, do you want me to move forward with reading these papers and talking to the other members of the firm? If not, I may be able to recommend another firm, although I can't vouch for them as much as I can myself."

"Can you give us a minute alone?" my dad asked.

"Of course," she said, already getting up. "Just open the door when you want me to come back in." She grabbed her water on the way out.

"What do you think, kiddo?"

"I don't really know if we have a choice here, Dad. She's doing a lot to help us out, both financially and legally. I don't like the complications she brings, but I also don't like the idea of facing an entire firm like her with someone else we don't know. I say we go with her." _And hope I never have to face her on the streets_ , I added mentally. It wouldn't do to possibly injure my own lawyer.

"I agree, she's a good choice. God, I can't believe Alan would do something like this. I wish I could give him a piece of my mind."

"He might not know," I said, "Emma's gotten really good at acting."

"You might be right. I hope you aren't, though."

That confused me. "Why?"

"Because," he said heavily, "If he's innocent, then we're tearing apart my best friend's family just to get at his daughter. We're already likely to be doing that with the other girls, but… I hope he's complicit in this, because then… it might be okay."

We sat for a minute in silence. Finally, I said my opinion. "I don't look forward to that, either." I could imagine the hurt look on Mrs. Barnes' face, the betrayal on Anne's. "But this needs to happen. They can't win, or everything I've gone through will be meaningless."

"I know, little owl." He put a hand on mine and squeezed it. "Let's call her back in."

I got up and made my way to the door. Opening it, I invited Carol back in.

"So," she said as she closed the door, "have you made a decision?"

Dad and I glanced at each other, and by some unspoken agreement, I spoke. "Well, Mrs. Dallon," I said dramatically, "You're hired."

She grinned. I had to suppress a shiver at the vicious confidence her perfect smile conveyed. It was almost like a cat who had finally seen a mouse to chase; not hungry, just relieved of boredom.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Hebert. I won't let you down." She sat down at her desk. "Now," she said as she pulled up her keyboard, "let's get to work."


	13. Tango 2-3

Tango 2.3

Saturday morning found me back at the Undersiders' base, at least for a short while.

"I thought we went shopping Tuesday? Why are we going shopping again?" I still hadn't even gotten around to taking the clothes she'd bought me home, for Pete's sake.

"I already told you, the Market and Weymouth are completely different shopping experiences," Lisa replied from the head of the group.

"I never thought I'd see a girl who hated shopping," Alec whispered behind us.

"I heard that!" I said indignantly. "I don't hate shopping. I just don't obsess over it, unlike some people." I shot Lisa a look, and she shrugged in response, despite not being able to see thanks to her being out in front.

"Shopping is therapy, and god knows we all need some of that," she said in justification. "I'm just providing a service."

"Shopping is therapy to you, maybe," I replied. I was pouting a bit about the jab at my mental health, and she must have realized, because she let it drop.

I mean, the Market was awesome, assuming you kept a close eye on your wallet or purse. Seedy, but in a good way, like a potluck of goods and wares for sale. You could find just about anything there, from hand-crafted jewelry, art, and furniture, through unique clothing and accessories, and on to the widest variety of street foods available for twenty miles.

I used to go there every Saturday with Mom and Dad, back... before.

"So," Brian said, breaking the silence of our walk, "let's split up, I guess? Alec and I will meet you two in what, an hour thirty?"

"Let's call it two hours, and lunch," Lisa said before I had quite acknowledged the question.

I sighed and accepted my fate. Nothing short of Mastering her would get Lisa to do what I wanted, it seemed. Best to let her have her fun.

* * *

 _ _I'd forgotten how much fun this could be__ , I thought as I ate my last spoonful of frozen lemonade.

Lisa had started with clothing, but, seeing how unenthusiastic I was about the items on sale, we'd moved on rather quickly. Soon, we were surrounded by booths of crafts, food trucks, street performers playing for tips, and more. Every tent was a little adventure, and I'd eventually caved and started to enjoy myself.

I did wish I didn't have to carry everything, but, well, I had two arms, Lisa had one functional one.

"Hey, Taylor, check this stall out," she called from a stall or two down, barely audible with all the other people around me. I flowed through the crowd, using my ability to sense the people to avoid bumping into anyone with either body or bags. A few more rats, flies, and other assorted nuisances entered the edge of my range, and I sent them to join my swarm in the sewers, once I had them under control. No use leaving pests around, right?

The stall in question was a 'polished rocks and glass' seller, one of the more common things to sell both here and at the Boardwalk. Tourists would buy them up, but even locals liked a good, nice-looking paperweight or conversation piece.

"What did you find?" I asked as I slid up next to her.

She smirked as she turned to me, lifting up a necklace with her good arm. As she held it, the pendant swung down from her hand, dangling by the cord. I held back a laugh as I realized what it was: a little skull carved out of a chunk of smoky quartz. Which would have been a perfect gift for Brian, except it was wearing a sombrero made of rose quartz.

"You think he'd wear it?" she asked with a grin.

"Not a chance," I said with a genuine smile, "But you should get it for him anyway."

"Yeah, I thought so." She made her way to the stall owner, and I studied some of the other items while I waited. Lisa was haggling, from what I overheard. I turned over a rainbow-shimmering stone, humming along to the complex polyrhythms of the song on the radio, practicing some dances using the troupe I kept belowground, and other things, to keep myself from boredom. Finally, Lisa tapped my shoulder, handed me the bagged item, and we headed on down the street.

"So, you enjoying yourself?" she asked as she fell into step behind me.

"A little," I conceded. "It's better since we stopped looking at fashion."

She laughed. "Fair. I can understand that." She paused, then said, "On an unrelated note, you should probably take out an earbud, you know? It feels weird talking to you when you've got both in."

"I can hear you fine," I said, turning to walk backward. I used my powers to make sure I didn't crash into anyone. "I'd really prefer to keep them both in. Stereo sound and all that." I spun back around.

"I know you can hear me, but it looks like you can't and it's setting off my – one sec."

I felt Lisa pull out her phone, check the number as it started jingling, and freeze for a moment. A moment later, everything was normal, but that momentary twitch felt off, set me on edge. We both stopped, and she motioned me to the side.

"Hey, boss, give me a second." I relaxed a bit. It was just our boss. She mouthed at me; 'Let's find an alleyway.' "Yeah, I'm back…"

I led her to what my bugs had determined was the greatest place ever, AKA your average dumpster in an alleyway. Lisa ducked into it, while I kept my eye out for trouble. I did my best to pretend I was just looking out for a friend, as opposed to a new supervillain who was trying to get details about her mysterious boss through casual eavesdropping.

"Well, I had an idea for a job… yeah, that one. We'd need incentives, though, they'd never go for it… Really? Okay, sure. You got it, boss-man. I'll pass it along."

Not much to go on, besides the male voice and pronouns. The cynic in me said that could be voice changing, so I probably had nothing. Mysterious indeed.

Lisa gave me a look as she walked up to me. "Stop," she said flatly.

"What?" I said innocently.

"Stop trying to figure out our boss, and please stop eavesdropping on my conversations, especially with said boss." She said it like she was talking about the weather, but I was somewhat familiar with the tone she was using; her cavalier attitude was a transparent mask for a serious admonishment. "It's not a good idea."

"Okay, sorry," I said, somewhat miffed that her power saw straight through me so easily. "So, what was that about?"

"Oh, just a job offer," she said with a small smile. "I'll tell you later. For now, let's meet up with the boys." She glanced my way again, frowning as she locked eyes on my earbuds. "And, please, just take one out. It's __bugging__ me, if you know what I mean."

I didn't really, but I complied for her sake. Better than listening to her complaining.

* * *

"So," Alec said after swallowing a bite of burger, "you two find anything good?"

I munched on a fry while Lisa answered. "Just a few things."

Right. Like I hadn't been lugging around a bunch of clothing and knickknacks all day.

"That reminds me, we bought Brian something," she added.

"Oh crap, it's a gag gift, isn't it," he said with a sigh. I didn't trust myself to say no, and Lisa didn't bother responding. Instead, she tried digging into the bag, winced a little as the motion pulled at her burns, and looked to me plaintively. I reached down to get it for her, passing it to her under the table. She cupped it in her fingers and placed it on the table, then revealed it.

Alec burst out laughing, the sound laced with a bit of pain as his still-healing ribs protested. Brian groaned as he eyed the pink sombrero. "Why?" he said with a tone of disbelief. "Why did anyone think it was a good idea to put that on there?"

"It sold, didn't it?" Alec said while trying to stop laughing. "I mean, it can't be a bad idea if it made money, right?" He glanced at the skull pendant, said, "Fuck, that thing looks stupid as all hell," and started laughing again.

Brian took the thing off the table, tossing it in one of their bags, and went back to eating. Alec wiped a tear from his eye, and sighed. "I haven't laughed like that in a while," he said. "It fucking hurts like hell, but thanks."

"Don't mention it," Lisa replied offhandedly. I nodded, not really sure I had any reason to be thanked. Silence fell for a minute as we all went back to eating.

Brian finished his burger first, and after a few fries, asked, "So, what are we doing after this? Any ideas?"

"Acshually," Lisa said before swallowing, "we need to head back. Got a job to discuss."

"Really? Couldn't have mentioned that sooner, Lise?"

"I could have, but I figured we could enjoy lunch first," she replied. "No worries, we've got time."

"Fine, then. I'll go call Rachel, make sure she heads that way. You guys finish up." With that, he left.

"And that is exactly why I didn't say anything," she muttered to herself. Alec and I both nodded in agreement, and we all tucked into our food.

* * *

"A bank robbery?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, a bank robbery," Lisa confirmed.

"I don't like it. Too risky, for too little payout."

I piped up. "I'm kind of new to all this? What's wrong with a bank robbery? I thought that was, like, the bread and butter of small-timers?"

Lisa, ever the fount of information, explained. "That's an illusion at best, a bad movie cliché at worst. Normally, bank robberies are too public, and they keep surprisingly little in the way of cash and valuables at each branch." She went on. "I say normally, because this is a special one. We've got a window where we can hit it big, with low risk, and the boss is making the deal even sweeter."

"How much sweeter?" Alec asked.

"Triple the take," Lisa said dramatically.

Alec whistled.

Brian's brow furrowed. "Why? He can't be making money like that."

"Oh, but he can, if we get the right stuff for him. He wants account info, personal information, and passwords. He'll pay us a minimum 25k, with tripled funds if the total would be higher than that, as long as I get him some info off their systems. All I need is a few minutes at a computer, and we get a decent payday even if we pocket nothing from the safe.

"But that's not all," she said, heading off the response from Brian. "We've got a very lucky window of time on this. You see, the banks move cash on Thursday nights. By hitting the bank on Thursday, we get a higher amount of cash in the vault, assuming nobody makes a huge cash withdrawal within the next five days from our target. Plus, on Thursday, the Protectorate will be out of town for an event. New Wave will step up patrols to compensate, but they're going to leave the area near Arcadia to the Wards. Which means, if we hit during school hours..."

"...Then we only have a few members of the Wards to worry about," I finished. "That's not ideal, but I can probably do well against one or two, if I have a swarm ready."

"I still don't like it. What if the whole Wards team shows up? You and Alec are injured, and I don't think your bones are going to be healed by then."

He had a point. If it came to a full-on fight, we would only have three members to work with, maybe four if Alec got out of his sling by then. Of those, only Rachel and I could really do anything about the worst members, and I would need time to take them over.

"I wasn't going to do much against them anyway," Lisa said with a hand wave. "Alec should be okay as long as he stays on the sidelines. Besides, the Wards won't all turn up for a bank robbery, because it's a low-priority crime."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Bank robberies are low-priority. The money is insured, and unless we do something stupid like hurt hostages, it's a victimless crime. They get a lot of press coverage, though, which means a good heist will boost our rep, even though it wouldn't be much of a challenge. It's a win-win in terms of risk and reward, if we strike at the right time."

I looked around the room, taking in everyone's expressions. Lisa and Alec were obviously interested in the idea; Brian was against it; but I couldn't make sense of Rachel's expression. "Rachel?" I asked, "What do you think?"

She grunted. "Don't really care. Money would be nice." She sounded disinterested. I could understand that.

"Let's take a vote," Lisa said. "I am obvious saying yes." She pointed with her good hand. "Alec?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, let's do it."

"Brian?"

"I'm against. It seems too convenient."

"Taylor?"

I gave it some thought. "If we can come up with a good plan, I'm in. Otherwise, it does sound a bit off."

"Fair enough. Rachel?"

"Sure," she said gruffly.

"Okay, that's three for, one maybe, and one no. We're going for it, then." She turned to me. "Taylor, would you mind picking some good planning music? I'd like to get started on this right away, so we can let the boss know."

"That, I can do," I said with a smile as I dug out my MP3 player. Time for some montage music.


	14. Tango: Interlude 1

_This chapter beta'd by Undead Robot and broughtfromxp. Thanks, guys._

* * *

Tango: Interlude 1

Melanie Fitts was an observant person. She had to be, in her line of work.

Students were loitering outside the school, trickling into buses and cars. Girls chatted and hung off of boys; boys pushed each other around and laughed. A normal scene, one being mirrored across the entire city at this very moment.

Melanie could see past the veneer.

She saw the telltale signs of gang presence, painted brightly in red and black and green. It was evident in the way certain groups clustered, how one student adjusted her jeans and a glint of steel flashed momentarily. She saw the hard drug users, gaunt in appearance or jumpy in demeanor, surrounded by people who wanted what they had. A girl walked apart from the crowd, and Melanie noted how her stomach bulged ever so slightly with the first hints of a teenage pregnancy. She felt a pang of sympathy, but turned away.

Winslow was that kind of school. Everyone knew it.

She wasn't here to scope out the gangs, though. She had a more mundane task: she needed to ask a few questions, and check out a few things. She opened the car door, got out, shut it, locked it. No big loss if some wannabe gangster stole it: it was a junker, one of her spare vehicles. Brushing off her pants, and pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil, she picked out a target.

"Excuse me, may I have a moment?"

The teen, a blond boy of small stature who probably would be a target of Empire recruitment someday, turned to see who had spoken. "Sure, what's up?"

"Do you know anything about a girl named Taylor Hebert?"

The boy smiled. "Of course I know Taylor! How can I help?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, Ms. Noel, but I can't just hand over sensitive documents."

Melanie had banged her head against this wall enough times to know two things. One: Miss Blackwell wasn't going to budge. Two: The woman had to be hiding something. She wasn't being paid enough to care this much, that much was sure; her clothing was professional, but nowhere near the quality Blackwell's earrings and nails suggested she craved.

Melanie was playing the part of an aide to the Superintendent, here for files related to the four girls allegedly involved in the incident of January 3rd. A flustered aide, one who had accidentally left the proper forms at home. A simple disguise, and one that would easily be overturned if they made a call, but she hadn't expected this much resistance.

It was time to go.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Principal Blackwell. I'll go fetch the paperwork, and come back. What are your office hours?"

She frowned. "We're open till six, but I have a busy schedule this afternoon. It would be best for you to come back another day."

Melanie nodded, stood, and thanked her for her time. Blackwell led her out of the office, and she left in the direction of the nearest door. Once she was out of sight, Melanie scowled.

Damn. She'd hoped to do things with at least a semblance of legality, especially considering her employer. It made things more difficult when you couldn't say exactly how you'd acquired evidence, even if the plan had involved impersonating a government employee. Still, Melanie had other ways of acquiring information; she just had to wait.

* * *

Winslow really was a dump. She'd expected security cameras to avoid, guards patrolling the halls to keep vandals out, or at the very least an alarm system to be careful around. Instead, she found a few busted camera domes, a single guard who had apparently fallen asleep, and an alarm system that had been systematically dismantled by gang members until the only doors left were the ones with nothing interesting behind them.

She hadn't even had to hide, really. It was a matter of waiting in the bathroom until everyone left.

First, the files. Breaking into the office took her a minute; she was unused to her lock picking set. It had been several months since she'd really needed such a discreet way of entering a locked room. The filing cabinets were massive, but fortunately well-sorted. She got down to business.

Emma Barnes; Madison Clements; Taylor Hebert; Sophia Hess. Hess' file was a thick as the other three combined, which made her raise an eyebrow. Still, it wasn't her job to read these, just to copy them. She pulled a pocket scanner out of her bag, and set it up. Sitting down at the desk, she started feeding papers with one hand, and searching through drawers with the other. She found what she was looking for: a string of numbers and letters, handwritten on a piece of paper. The password to the administrative computer system.

She removed a staple, then went back to feeding with her left hand, typing with the other. A moment later, she reached for her bag with the right hand, dug around in it a bit. A flash drive was produced, plugged in, and some files were copied over shortly thereafter.

Things would be so much easier if she had her team with her, but that would have drawn attention. One had to be discreet on some jobs, especially ones where your employer was a superhero and a lawyer.

She sighed as she was forced to remove yet another staple. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

She brushed her hair quickly, wanting to look professional. A bit of touch-ups on her makeup, one last bite of a protein bar to take the edge off her hunger in case the meeting went long, and she made her way inside.

It really was strange, working for Carol Dallon. The woman was a bit silly, to her. A hero, one she knew had a black-and-white mentality, was also openly a lawyer, someone who often dealt with gray areas. Case in point, her current employment. Melanie knew her name would have been known to only a few others in town as anything beyond a simple bar owner, and many of those who knew she took other work… weren't asking for Melanie, per se.

She knocked on the door.

"One moment," the lawyer's voice came from inside. She heard papers being pushed around, a drawer being opened. She adjusted her bag while she waited. Finally, the door opened, and there stood Carol Dallon.

"Ah, Miss Fitts. Please, come in," she said, holding the door open wide. Melanie made her way to a chair inside, and Carol locked the door behind her.

Melanie dug in her bag while Carol came back to the desk. Finding what she wanted, she pulled out the USB drive, and set it on the table.

Carol glanced at it as she sat down, then motioned for her to explain.

"Interviews, files, and other evidence. Some may be inadmissible, but there's enough there to get you started." Melanie paused as the lawyer quietly slid the flash drive across the desk, plugging it into her computer. "I'll be collecting more, as per our agreement, but I figured I should drop this off."

Carol's eyebrow rose after a few clicks. "This… How did you get these files?" she asked.

"No comment," Melanie replied.

Carol frowned. "Ms. Fitts, I would ask that in future, you stick to legal, or at the very least, morally correct methods of information gathering. I appreciate the effort you had to put in for these, but I cannot count these as evidence towards either a criminal or civil suit."

Melanie nodded. She should have expected as much; sometimes, you needed to compromise your methods for moral reasons, and she had failed to consider the consequences of not doing so in this situation. "I'll accept reduced pay for the information, and strive to do better in the future, Mrs. Dallon."

"That won't be necessary. If the information provided is as good as it seems to be, I may just drop some anonymous tips with the police, get a complimentary criminal case going. Hmm…" She clicked, opening another file. "Yes, this is a good start."

She read a bit more, then turned away from the screen, a frown returning to her face as she looked across the desk to Melanie. "Again, I must stress that I need hard, legally obtained evidence. As useful as 'leaked' documents can be for a case, they are not admissible. I was told you were one of the best for this kind of investigative work, and I expect better results next time."

Melanie accepted the rebuke. "Of course," she said, rising from her chair.

She stood, offering a hand. "Then I look forward to our continued cooperation."

* * *

A/N: One year. More than a year, for my readers. It's been far too long.

I don't really know what made it so hard for me to write last June. It wasn't a bad time in my life, so far as I know. I was (and am) still interested in Worm, and had plans set out for a fourth story. I just...stopped. No real updates, no communication.

I'm sorry.

I'm not going to make any promises; history has shown that an update schedule is not going to work. But I do hope to bring all of my work back, post when I can, and stick to a standard of quality that you deserve while I do so.

If you want to help that happen, or just find yourself willing to do light editing in exchange for spoilers, discussion, and memes, I have three beta positions open over on Spacebattles. Pm me for details.


	15. Tango: Interlude 2

_This chapter given a not-so-cursory glanceover by Undead Robot, Abhorsen, and broughtfromxp. Thanks, guys._

 _Today's songs are Under Pressure by Queen, followed by Lake Shore Drive by Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah. Sing along if you'd like!_

* * *

Tango: Interlude 2

"…and by taking the cosine of x squared, divided by cosine y squared, we find..."

If ever in the history of mankind there came to exist a more boring and dense subject than calculus, Dean didn't want to hear about it. His faith in humanity could only stretch so far.

Mr. Hartmann droned on, oblivious to the tired afternoon classroom's waning interest. To Dean, it was as obvious as the weather outside; a dull cloud of boredom hung low over the classroom, scattered through with the rare bright splash of genuine interest. Dean heard the dull thunk of a head hitting a desk. He made another note, then propped his head on his arm while he waited until the teacher got around to the next valid bit of information.

His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket.

Dean sighed with relief, checked the clock, and slid his notebook into his bag. Getting up, he made his way to the front, made excuses of the bathroom variety, and accepted the homework Hartmann passed him. Then he was free.

He pulled out his phone as he approached his locker. Arcadia High had a faraday cage. Cell signals didn't work inside it, except for those that were intentionally relayed through. In his case, the only messages that got through were work messages.

 _Code 27, Bay Central Bank. Dallons involved. Meet at back exit in 5._

He added a few books to his bag and double-timed it downstairs. Probably not coming back today if the text was right. Hostage situations tended to take a while.

He made it out the back entrance in three minutes. Carlos was already in the shielded-from-view alleyway, shirt removed and pants coming off. Dean started to follow suit, but as he set his bag down his phone, now free to receive signals, started to explode with notifications. He glanced at it. Vicky had sent a string of texts.

"Van's coming in 5," Carlos said. "Dennis should be here any moment, Vista's gonna meet us there. Bank taken hostage by persons unknown. Glory Girl called it in. From what they told me, she's chomping at the bit to go in, but it's our jurisdiction."

"Gotcha. Let me see if I can talk her down." Ignoring the texts, he called his girlfriend. "Hey Vicky-"

"Finally! Took you long enough!" She sounded angry. "Did you read my texts?"

"No time. We're getting suited up and on our way. What's the situation?"

"I don't know! The bank is leaking this black mist or smoke, no way to see inside. I shouldn't have let her run the errand alone!"

"Wait, who?" he said, confused.

"Amy, you dolt! She's in the bank! Just- read my texts!"

"Look, we're on our way," he said as Dennis arrived in the alleyway.

"Good. Maybe you'll be here in time to take these idiots into custody." Shit.

"Vic, don't do anything yet. Amy's gonna be fine, but you've gotta wait till we get there, understand? You can't take them on and defend the hostages on your own, you'll need help!"

She huffed. "Fine. I'll wait a few minutes. But if Ames gets hurt because you made me wait…" she let the words hang a moment. "I'll be overhead when you get here." She hung up.

He sighed and started stripping down. Vicky was a determined, headstrong person, and nothing he could say would keep her from doing what she thought needed to be done. He loved her for it, but sometimes it was so frustrating to deal with.

He hoped Amy was okay.

He started slipping into his undersuit. "I'm gonna have to put on my armor on the ride there," he remarked. "I bought us a few minutes, but we've got to get there fast. Amy's inside the bank."

"I'm guessing we shouldn't try the 'switch costumes' idea then?" Dennis remarked with a slight grin while he wriggled into his bodysuit.

Aegis was already strapping on armor bits, but chuckled. "No time, Clock," he said sardonically.

Dennis responded with a groan. "I thought we were past the time pun stage of our relationship, man. I'm at least up to clever wordplay by now."

Dean smiled a bit as he fit in his earpiece, glad to know that Dennis was trying to lighten his mood in his own way. It was hard on Dennis, being the comic relief, and Dean respected him for it.

"Comm check," Aegis said over the comms.

"Check," they each replied in turn.

"Check," came the voice of the PRT trooper on duty. "Your van should be pulling up. Good luck." Right on cue, the driver backed into the alleyway behind the school. They piled their bags and gear inside, climbed in, and raced off. Gallant got to affixing tinkertech armor to his suit, and Carlos started talking game plan.

"Way I see it, this is a great opportunity for a bit of leadership training. We aim to negotiate the hostages free, then bring in the people responsible. I would have liked to have Browbeat come along, get to learn the ropes, but the base thinks we have enough for the situation with us three and Vista.

"Gallant, you're the negotiator. Clock, you and I are enforcers, and Vista will control the environment. If we can get Glory Girl to listen..."

"I'm not sure," Gallant said, affixing a gauntlet. "Amy went to the bank just before the hostages were taken, and there's been no communication since, so she's worried. I'll see if I can get her to work with us, but I can't guarantee she'll listen."

"If we can, then she'll be good for keeping the hostages calm. If not, just see if you can keep her out of the fight unless something goes south?"

"Sure."

"Do we know the villains responsible?"

"Not really. Vicky mentioned a black mist leaking from the entrance, so it could be Grue and his team, but it's not really the Undersiders M.O. They normally do hit-and-run jobs. Could be wrong, though," he said with a shrug.

The van pulled to a stop. "I guess we'll find out," Aegis said.

Dennis threw open the doors. "Aw, come on," he complained as they filed out and moved the block or so towards the bank, "Of course it has to rain. It couldn't have held off for an hour?"

Gallant put a hand on Clockblocker's shoulder and affected a deep, wistful tone. "Ah, yes, if only we had a weather manipulator on our team. Then you'd never have to fight in the rain." He chuckled and fell in behind Aegis.

"At least you're all in bodysuits," Vista's voice came over the comms. "My skirt is getting soaked through. You know how hard it is to run with a wet skirt?"

"If I said yes…"

"Do not put that image in my head, Clockblocker," she said with false anger. "My poor innocent mind might be corrupted."

"Okay guys, cut the chatter," Aegis said as they arrived by Vista across the street from the bank, taking in the area. The three-story edifice stood over a wide intersection, the upper floors utterly devoid of movement, inky black fog seeping from the first floor's doors. The streets had been evacuated in a large radius around the bank, so the only sounds were the pattering of rain and the music playing faintly over the bank's speakers.

"Yep, that's definitely Grue's power, which means we're probably dealing with the Undersiders," Aegis commented. "I think we fan out in a semicircle, get Glory Girl to watch the back exit. Vista, make the escape routes as long as you can? The goal is to make it hard for anything to slip past."

"On it. Anything to stop listening to 'Ice Ice Baby' on repeat," she said, turning to change the streets behind them.

"I'll make the call to Vicky," Gallant said. He dialed her up in his HUD, turning down his comms mic and volume near the minimum. "Vicky, here's the plan. We're gonna surround the front of the building and try to negotiate things peacefully, but we could use someone watching the alleyways around the back in case anyone tries try to slip away. Stay high and try to stay unseen, got it?"

"I can work with that for now, Gallant, but I reserve the right to go in if I think Amy is in danger."

"Of course," he promised. Aegis said his name, and he ignored it. "But that shouldn't happen. I'll make sure she's safe. Just focus on the mission, we'll come through this okay."

"Thanks," she said, her voice muted.

He glanced up, trying to make out her emotions from afar, and failing as usual to make out anything but her sunny aura of awe. On his comms, Aegis said his name again. "I've got to go, I'm under a lot of pressure down here. Talk to you after." He ended the call. "Yeah?"

"Please save me from these two," Aegis said, a sizzling exasperation building around him.

"What? What did I miss?"

Vista spoke first. "Clockblocker's mad because I don't know who Queen is."

"I'm not mad, just frustrated that nobody else on this team respects the classics! They both thought this was 'Ice Ice Baby', for Pete's sake!"

Gallant listened. The bank's speakers were playing… "But that's Under Pressure? Isn't that one of their most famous songs?"

"See, he gets it!"

"Gallant, when I said help, I meant help me get them to focus," Aegis remarked.

"Look, Clock," Vista said, "I didn't say it wasn't catchy or anything, it's just that I've heard the song twice in a row now and it's getting stuck in my head."

"Guys," Gallant said, "focus up. We can talk music after we get these innocent people back on the streets. Fan out, like Aegis said." He took the lead, setting an example for the other two, taking the position directly opposite the bank doors. They walked to their positions confidently, the rain and music the only nearby sounds in the evacuated streets. Gallant stepped up.

The bank was a mess of emotions, muddled and faint through the infinitely black fog that seeped from the doors and flooded the windows. The predominant one was fear, like a thick, oppressive fog that blinded and sapped reason. It was broken up by rage, depression, and even joy and novelty, each emotion tinging and changing the fear in different ways. A complex situation, for sure.

He turned up his external speakers. "Attention Undersiders! We have the area surrounded. Release the hostages to us and we can end this peacefully!"

There was a small spike in the fear levels surrounding the bank, then nothing.

"Oh thank god, the song is ending," Vista said over the comms.

"Why are you two so caught up on the music?" Aegis asked. "It's just a song."

The doors flew open, darkness pouring out over the ground like a fog machine. Twenty figures emerged from the doorway in sync, running out in all directions. Hostages, by their emotions. "So the Undersiders are willing to negotiate," he said over the comms, sighing with relief.

Then the new song started up with a peppy piano, and things went very wrong.

The hostages froze in place and spun to face the bank. The darkness that had spilled from the door began to rapidly spread outward, filling the area with a fog that made seeing their footing impossible.

Three almost car-sized creatures emerged from the bank laden with bags, followed by five people. Grue, a tall, dark male; Hellhound, a thuggish girl in a dog mask; Regent, dressed as a white-shirted Shakespearean prince; and in the middle, two unexpected figures. One was a gracile woman with curly dark hair who was clad in navy and black, and the other a diminutive girl that Gallant immediately recognized as Amy Dallon. Their formerly newest member, Tattletale, was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe fifteen seconds had passed since the hostages began acting strangely, and Aegis finally caught his bearings. "Clockblocker, you and I focus the dogs. They're likely to try running. Gallant, see about those-"

The hostages began to sing.

"There's a road I'd like to tell you 'bout," they sang, beginning some kind of frantic, high-pace square dance, "lives in my home town!"

"...help them if you can," he said, shutting off his comms.

"Lake Shore Drive the road is called, and it'll take you up or down!"

Gallant walked forward. Or, well, he tried. Two steps into the darkness, he stepped on something soft and lost his balance, stumbling into yet another soft thing then falling into the fog. Just before he fell, he heard Vista scream: "Rats!"

Then he was in utter silence, thousands of furry bodies carrying him off to who knows where. "I need help!" he yelled, struggling to get above the knee-high realm of shadow and vermin, glad for his armor.

The only sounds that answered him as he slipped again were that of his own breathing, and metal armor skidding on pavement. Wait, no; there was one other sound.

 _Running south on Lake Shore Drive, heading into town. Just slippin' on by on LSD, Friday night trouble-bound…_

Oh geez, it was in his _head._ He redoubled his struggles as he realized what had happened to the hostages. He had to get out of this darkness and warn them of the effect.

He threw a blast from each hand to clear an area, and it paid off when his gauntlet solidly planted on asphalt for the first time since he fell. As quickly as he could with his body getting more and more twitchy by the second, he threw more, cleared a space to plant his knee, and clambered to his feet.

Breaking through the darkness was like coming up from the bottom of a pool gasping for air. It was up to his stomach now, and he was completely disoriented for a moment by how far he'd been carried. He was near where Clockblocker had been standing, rotated around the circle about a hundred feet. He found himself humming the tune and stopped himself. With great care not to trip again as his body betrayed him, he turned to face the fight.

Vista was nowhere to be seen, and Clockblocker was pinned in place by frozen rats and bugs, unable to escape until all of them unfroze. Aegis was being tossed from the one-eyed monsters' mouth back into the fog, and it was clear he was suffering similarly to Gallant. The villainess in navy blue was dancing with an enraged Amy Dallon, and the other four villains- one more had appeared while he had been down, wearing a cast and lavender bodysuit- were mounting up.

They needed reinforcements. He used the HUD to call Vicky, lobbing a ball of crushing despair at Grue that went wide, getting a horrible arm cramp for his trouble. She hung up on him. A moment later, a white blur slammed into the pavement next to the dancing duo, radiating awe like the morning sunrise. The dancing hostages stumbled and slowed.

"Get your hands off my sister, you creep," Glory Girl said, cracking her knuckles, "or I'll break them off."

* * *

A/N: Settling into a bit of a schedule, which sums up to "Post something on Wednesday." If you missed it, last Wednesday brought the start of a new story, Acta Sanctorum, so go check that out.

Next time on Tarantism, a return to our main character's perspective!


	16. Tango 2-4

_This chapter given a do-si-do by Abhorsen, Undead Robot, and broughtfromxp._

* * *

Tango 2.4

The plan had been going perfectly until I noticed one of my thralls was up to something.

"Just a minute, Grue," I said, tone clipped thanks to the building pain I was feeling behind my eyes, "I've got to go deal with something."

With some levity injected in his hollowed-out voice, he replied, "I think we can manage without you for a minute." Bitch just kept stuffing money into a bag.

I strode into the main lobby area, where the bank's patrons were slowly falling under my spell. Gesturing to a mousy-haired girl, I commanded, "Come with me."

She glared at me, but didn't have much choice in the matter. She stumbled to her feet, fighting my control the whole way. We stepped out into the hallway, heading for Tattletale.

"What do you want from me, you creep?" she demanded, eyeing my back for openings as she clumsily fought to stop walking.

"I want you to stop messing with me," I stated flatly, rubbing my temple as best I could through the kevlar-reinforced silk. "I can tell you're doing something to my power, and you're going to stop."

The girl stiffened a bit. "What? What are you talking about?" she protested. "I'm just some girl."

Yeah, no. It didn't take me having partial control of her body to tell that she was lying. "You're not just some girl, that's for sure. 'Some girl' wouldn't keep touching the bugs I put on people." Even if I hadn't literally noticed her seeing herself in the act, the look of surprise on her face would have confirmed it.

We turned the corner to the administrator's office, where Tattletale, who was still in a sling, had her feet propped up and was busily typing away with the remaining hand. "Hey Tattletale, can I borrow your brain a sec?"

"Sure thing," she said, kicking to spin around dramatically. "What's the issue?"

"Getting some kind of feedback from my power. Saw her touching bugs. Any idea what's up here?"

"I-mmmph!" the girl said as I forced her to hum instead of interrupting.

"Hmm," Tattletale said, stroking her chin. "Well, I'd say your problem stems from that girl you have there being Amy Dallon, and that the feedback is her altering your bugs in some ill-fated attempt to free everyone. I'll let you deal with that situation yourself, I've got a juicy trust fund to drain." She smiled. "Oh, and ETA 7 minutes for the Wards, pass it along."

"Thanks," I said, now mulling over the situation as we walked back towards the lobby area. I glanced over at Amy, and realized I was still forcing her to be quiet. I relaxed my control.

"You bitch! Who do you think you are, controlling people like this!" she said as she sashayed back and forth modestly.

"I think I'm doing this in the least violent way I can," I said, propping up my arm to stroke my chin as I thought about the situation. On the one hand, she had almost foiled all of our plans singlehandedly, and caused me a killer headache that was only now starting to fade as my swarm hunted and killed the altered bugs. She was a liability in the crowd, too likely to get her hands on something and make a move. I should punish her for trying something and be done with it.

On the other hand, she was the daughter of the first decent adult I had met in months(that wasn't my dad, of course). This girl, who was releasing a string of invective that would make a dockworker blush right now, was just a hero trying to do good in a bad situation. She didn't deserve to be traumatized for her trouble.

"You'll stay here, and if I catch you doing anything like that again there will be consequences," I said, interrupting her tirade and walking away. Entering the lobby, I walked over to whisper an update to Regent. "She'll be under my watch for a bit. It's Panacea. Also, 5 minutes till Wards."

"Gotcha. Everything's good out here," he replied. "Next step, I guess. Don't really see the point though."

"A happy hostage is a less traumatized hostage," I mumbled before turning to the room. Raising my hands, I began dismissing the rodents and bugs. "Thank you for your cooperation," I said. "I'm sorry I had to threaten you all like that. You're free to quietly talk among yourselves, but please stay on the floor for now. My teammate will be watching." I strode out, past the fuming Dallon, to the vault where Grue and Bitch were working.

"Got it sorted for the moment, but the plan needs a slight change," I said as I sat back down to fill my abandoned bag.

"What's up?" Grue said as Bitch wrenched open another deposit box and bagged the contents.

"Well, turns out we accidentally took Amy Dallon hostage. She tried pulling something, I handled it, but I'm betting she'll try again if I don't watch her myself." I sighed. "Which means I probably need to stay in the bank with her and the physically infirm hostages. Sorry I can't help."

"Wait, you're backing out?" Bitch said, turning to face us. "This was your plan!"

"No, I'm still gonna do the whole plan, just that I'd have to stay inside instead," I corrected hurriedly.

"I don't like it. What if we need you to change things on the fly?" Grue commented. "Things can get hectic in a fight, after all."

"Well, what do you suggest?" I asked, exasperatedly zipping up my last bag and dragging it over to Brutus. "I can't bring her outside with the rest, she'll be too close to the swarm."

Bitch turned around, grumbled, "I don't see why you can't just keep an eye on her outside."

I thought about it as I lugged the bag up to the dog's harness. The plan as it stood was simple: I was going to use the civilians to dissuade ranged attacks, cover the ground with rats to trip and harry those on the ground, and use birds and bugs on Aegis or Kid Win should they fly. It would still work as planned if I stayed inside, but my senses were far easier to rely on than the hostages', so I wouldn't be as flexible.

A thought occurred. "Hey, Bitch, you might be on to something..."

* * *

"There's a road I'd like to tell you 'bout, lives in my hometown!" The hostages began to sing.

"I know you're not happy about this," I said as we curtsied to each other, "but consider it retaliation for messing with me earlier."

"Lake Shore Drive the road is called, and it'll take you up or down!" they sang as my dance partner glared at me hard enough to set the air between us ablaze.

I turned my attention to the rest of the fight, ready to intervene if needed. We'd gotten lucky with both timing and powers; Kid Win and Shadow Stalker both could have been an issue, but as it stood my worst issue was Clockblocker; the others could be handled by Regent, Grue, and Bitch. I just had to take care of him while keeping my biology-altering dance partner away from any direct contact with living material, here in the dead zone I'd created for my teammates.

The average person would be surprised to know how many bugs, rodents, reptiles, birds and other small things there were in a given city. I hadn't even had to try very hard to amass more than enough rats, squirrels, mice, and cockroaches to completely fill the street with a thick carpet of life. As Grue's darkness had spread from the bank, my horde poured out of storm drains and alleys, forming a lazy river of bodies that swirled around the feet of anyone not under my protection, hopping along to the cheery beat as they spiraled around in the quiet void.

"From rats on up to riches, fifteen minutes you can fly," chorused the thralls.

By the third line, things were already going better than expected. Vista was already basically mine by the time we'd emerged, thanks to an early arrival and low body mass; a bit of pressure, and she was riding the rat train in no time. Her warning came too late for Gallant, who managed to trip with a few well-timed rats underfoot. He started getting dragged along too.

"Pretty blue lights along the way, help you right on by, and the blue lights shinin' with a heavenly grace, help you right on by!"

One chorus down, and we were already almost ready to go. We just needed to deal with Aegis and Clockblocker. Bitch could deal with the former, but only Regent and I could handle the latter. I turned my attention to the swarm.

Clockblocker, to his credit, had already managed to freeze several dancers and an unknown number of rats and bugs. He was steadily wading through the swarm, roughly three-fourths under my control already and fighting it all the way. That changed quickly when I told the next wave of rats and squirrels to start biting. He froze the first few attackers, which had the unfortunate side effect of freezing their teeth into the fabric of his costume. The moment spent extricating himself was all I needed to bury him in a horde. They focused on tearing the cloth, bugs and smaller rodents forcing their way into the holes so that he couldn't freeze them without pinning himself. By the time he was free of the first wave of critters, he resembled a flailing, squirming tower of furry bodies and chitinous shells.

At some point, it got to be too much for Clockblocker and he froze them all, effectively locking himself in that position for ten or so minutes. I immediately lowered my control over him to the bare minimum, not wanting to hurt him further on the frozen claws of my horde, and made a note to remove the creatures as they reappeared over time. I turned my attention to Aegis, but there was little point. Regent and Bitch had teamed up, and he was currently ineffectually punching Angelica in the snout to the beat while being shaken like a chew toy. I gave him twenty seconds before he couldn't even manage that.

"Running south on Lake Shore Drive, heading into town! Just slippin' on by on LSD, Friday night trouble-bound!" ended the first refrain.

Amy spun, and I caught her, bringing her in for a dip before locking arms to do-si-do. One of my thralls inside the bank signaled Tattletale that we were just about done, finding her already at the door. Grue helped her mount up.

Gallant stumbled to his feet, finally recovering. It was too late for him to do much of anything, in my opinion, but I admired his determination. He lobbed an attack, and Regent made him flinch up so it sailed high over Grue. I heard a phone ring in Gallant's helmet, but it hung up immediately. Strange.

A moment later, I felt a person fall into my range with meteoric velocity. I barely had enough time to flinch away as they landed right in front of me and my dance partner, making the ground shudder silently under Grue's fog and scattering debris everywhere.

As the heroine stood and dusted herself off, I felt an overwhelming, all-consuming fear. My thralls and swarms stumbled as my base instincts tried to redirect the emotions, but I just barely clamped down on the impulse. My last shreds of sense said that maintaining control over the already dangerously emotional crowd was more important than my own emotional distress. Which was nice and all, but it didn't keep me from freezing like a deer in headlights.

"Get your hands off my sister, you creep," Glory Girl said, cracking her knuckles, "or I'll break them off."

"Eep," I responded lamely, trying to process the situation while in the grip of absolute terror. Once I had, I did the only thing I could; I sent Amy spinning into her sister's arms and ran for my life. Regent grabbed my arm, swung me up behind him with a grunt of pain, and Bitch whistled.

 _And it starts up north from Hollywood, water on the driving side..._

"Hey, get back here!" the other Dallon child yelled as we pealed out of there, the dogs' claws chewing asphalt as they bounded down the empty street. I received an almost dizzying amount of information when I tried to sedate Glory Girl with a touch like Panacea reportedly could; apparently she had a much more complex mental component to whatever she did than I would have expected. Instead, I told her to cling to her sister, preventing her from taking off immediately.

Glory Girl, frustrated at our getaway, gently removed her sister-who was oddly more clingy than I'd expected, for an impromptu distraction- and took off in the direction we'd left in. As Grue covered us with darkness and we began to split off, I used Aegis to body-block the fellow Alexandria package just long enough that there was little hope of her finding us on her own, wincing as she swatted him aside with a wet snapping sound.

"Next left," I yelled to the darkness, glad my headphones were there to hold back complete silence. "We need to shake her!"

Grue must have heard me, because we abruptly veered left moments later. Through the eyes of a thousand birds, I watched Glory Girl pursue us. She kept diving into the shadowy depths Grue had made, surfacing moments later. I guessed our location, using the general senses of where people and animals were to determine what part of the cloud we were in, moving too fast to take anything but the smallest bugs over before they left my range. Glory Girl wasn't even close.

 _Running south on Lake Shore Drive, heading into town. Just slicking on by on LSD, Friday night trouble bound!_

She must have realized the same thing, because she flew up, surveying the city. For a moment, I thought she would give up. Instead, she turned our way, flying high and fast. I soon realized why.

"There's not enough darkness!" I yelled. "She's looking for where it's spreading in a direction, not where it's spreading out in every direction!"

We abruptly turned left again. My birds reported the darkness had ceased to grow. A hollow opened up around us as the dogs came to a stop in an alleyway, only noticeable by the sudden lack of utter silence around us.

"Okay. Is Glory Girl is still looking for us?" the darkness said with Grue's baritone, simultaneously hollow yet full, strangely flat in this orb of echo-free space.

"She is. Roughly thirty seconds before she reaches our area," I reported.

"She'll never find us in here," Regent said.

"She doesn't have to," Tattletale replied. "All she has to do is keep our general location until reinforcements arrive. They'll stop us. We need to lose our tail." Atop Angelica, Bitch shifted uncomfortably at the idiom.

"I think we should head for a clothing store, raid it, and blend into the crowd," Regent suggested with a shrug. "We stash the bags in a dumpster or something, maybe."

"Glory Girl's overhead and the PRT are already on scene at the bank. Barricades are being deployed," I reported. "Whatever we do, we've got to decide now."

"Right," Grue said. "Tattle and I will draw her away and circle back, you three stash what you have." With that, he kicked at Judas' ribs and bounded off; Bitch followed his lead, trusting Angelica to lead her to safety as she headed south.

 _And it's Friday night and you're looking clean, too early to start the rounds..._

Regent and I turned to leave too, but just before we reentered the wall of darkness, I felt Glory Girl reenter my range in a full blind dive. Which wouldn't be that much of a problem, except that by some twist of luck, she was headed directly for our little pocket. "Shit, here she comes!" I hissed, not a moment too soon. Regent took his feet away from Brutus, who stopped and stayed perfectly still, expecting us to dismount.

The heroine slammed into asphalt in the lightless dome of the meeting place. "Dammit," she cursed, floating up. A moment later, she paused. "Huh. I can hear myself?"

I prayed silently that she'd fly away.

Brutus sneezed.

"Fucking found yo-" she said, the words cut off as we bolted. She charged after us blindly, smacking into a car we'd leapt over, buying us just a few more seconds, which was all we needed to get away. I wasn't controlling Brutus directly, but a nudge here and there kept us from crashing as I led us into an alleyway. The elder Dallon child blew past us in a wave of emotion, and then it was just us two villains in the dark.

 _Just you and your mind and Lake Shore Drive, tomorrow is another day; and the sunshine's fine in the morning time, tomorrow is another day_ _..._

Twenty minutes later, as my control wavered in the last of the hostages and I slowly lost vision on the mess at the bank, the darkness finally began to fade. Anyone looking for us could have spotted a lanky girl and a skinny boy consoling a terrified rottweiler as the light returned to the small shopping district, but they weren't looking for _us_. There were no police barricades to avoid, no random checks. The only sign that anything was wrong with the world was the fact that a shop had been looted by opportunists during the blackout. Somewhere in the lower Docks, a pack of birds and rats guarded a certain dumpster especially fiercely. For better or worse, I was a villain.

No, scratch that- I was an _Undersider_.


End file.
